Brothers In Arms
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: With the Great War finally over - and the Autobots victorious - a new generation of Cybertronians grows up. And two of these children in particular - one the son of Optimus Prime, one of Megatron - will face their fathers' legacies and their destinies together...
1. Prologue

_Because I'm apparently addicted to writing about Transformer kids. And I'm not even sorry._

 _This idea locked its jaws onto me and has refused to let go, so you get this exploration of how two young mechs, one the son of Cybertron's greatest hero and one the son of its most notorious war criminal, deal with their respective fathers' legacies and what Cybertron expects of them as a result of their heritage. That, and I just like the idea of giving kids to some of our favorite G1 characters and seeing how they handle things._

 _Characters from my Thundercracker's Glory series of stories will be showing up in this fic - mainly Glory, Piston, Windblade (not the IDW one, but an OC that predates her), Stormrunner, and Wavebreaker. This being a different universe, however, some of those characters will suffer different fates than they did in Glory's story. And I'm going to do my best to write this story so that it isn't necessary to read Thundercracker's Glory or its sequels to understand what's going on (though I'd be flattered if you did, hehe...)._

 _Thanks to ParadiseParrot for beta-reading and helping me brainstorm!_

* * *

The howl of the gunship's engines echoed off the jagged rock formations that jutted from the planet's surface like the spines of some prehistoric creature. It rocketed over the drab gray-tan earth, kicking up a swath of dust like smoke in its wake, sending the insects and tiny reptilian creatures that were the planet's only natives scurrying for cover. The red-tinged rays of the world's sun gleamed from the craft's plating in a pink sheen, as if it had been spattered with energon in a recent battle, and the same pink-tinged light flashed from the armor of the ship's occupants, mechs who peered from the craft's open sides with optics alight with both anticipation and secret dread.

Optimus Prime gripped the safety handle in one hand as he leaned out the side of the ship, readying his rifle with the other. His optics narrowed as he focused on a distant smudge on the horizon – a low rectangular building, an anomaly against the ragged natural rock of the landscape. This was it. This was their destination… and with any luck, the site of the final battle that would seal the fate of Cybertron once and for all.

"Target acquired," Ultra Magnus reported from the pilot's seat, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the scream of the engine. "Ready to fire on your order, Prime."

"Hold your fire," Prime commanded. "We land and approach on foot. We want our target apprehended alive if at all possible."

Ironhide twisted around to give him an incredulous glare. "We gotta chance to blast Megatron to th' Pit an' you ain't takin' it? Have ya slipped a cog, Prime?!"

Prime shook his head. "The Autobot Council wants Megatron to stand trial for his crimes. If we destroy him, we deny all the victims of his cruelty justice. We take him alive if we can."

Ironhide scowled, then nodded and turned back to the rapidly approaching building. Prime knew his answer hadn't mollified him entirely, but it would at least ensure he didn't charge in with guns blazing. Which was fine by him – he had no desire to see his old friend felled in battle so close to victory, especially given the circumstances.

His grip tightened on the safety handle as he pulled himself back into the gunship. This mission was very real, yet an air of unreality hung over every aspect of it. His CPU still couldn't quite grasp the fact that the war was nearly over… and that the Autobots had emerged victorious. After what seemed to be an eternity of violence and death and destruction, the Decepticon's iron grip on Cybertron and its colony worlds had finally been shattered. Their forces were scattered, some fleeing into the far reaches of space, others defecting to the Autobots in hopes of saving their own necks, still others captured and awaiting a final decision on their fates.

The war was drawing to a close, and they had all but won. It was the dream Prime had clung to for vorns, yet it seemed so hard to believe that it was nearly within reach.

 _Perhaps this mission will finally help it sink in,_ he thought, bracing himself as the ship heaved upward to clear a rock formation. _Once Megatron is captured, it will be over for good. And Cybertron can finally begin to heal, and prepare for a brighter future._

The Autobots Prime had handpicked for this final mission – Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Mirage, and Bumblebee – had focused their gazes on the horizon. Once he was sure their attention was directed away from him, he lifted his weapon-arm and allowed a panel to raise, bringing a small holo-photo to life… a holo-photo of a regal-looking pink femme, smiling gently at the camera while cradling a little form in her arms.

Orion. Their creation… their son.

 _This is our future,_ he thought, a burst of pride and love cutting through the tension in his spark. _Our hope for a better Cybertron._ Not to mention his incentive for completing this mission and getting back to Iacon in one piece – not just for the sake of his Autobots, but for the sake of Elita-1… and of the sparkling who waited anxiously for his father to come home safe from every battle.

Perhaps it had been overly optimistic for Prime and Elita to create a child together during a time of war. But somehow – perhaps prompted by the Matrix, perhaps just coincidence – he had felt that the emergence of a new life on his part would be a sign of hope to his troops. It had been far too long since any mechs, Autobot or Decepticon, had the courage to reproduce; perhaps the son of a Prime would be the assurance the Autobots needed to create new life, and to ensure there would be a Cybertron worth saving for the rising generation.

"We're within range!" Jazz shouted, breaking into Prime's reverie.

"Bring us down," he ordered, snapping the panel shut. "Surround the building and keep a sharp optic out for traps or guards. According to our intel Megatron should be here alone, but we're not taking any chances."

"Roger-dodger!" Jazz replied, saluting and grinning wildly. "Let's catch us a Slagmaker!"

Prime glanced to the side… and saw Ironhide staring at him. The old Nissan glanced down at his arm where the holo-photo had been moments ago, then flashed him a grin.

"Eager to get back to 'em?"

"Always," Prime replied. "Though I'll hazard a guess that you're eager to get back to Chromia and Zinc, too."

Ironhide chuckled. "Least we'll go back with a story for the lil' ones, won't we?"

It was hard to argue with that. And at least Prime hadn't been the only mech foolhardy enough to sire offspring in the midst of a war. He only hoped he could arrange for both of them to get home in one piece, for the sake of the sparklings.

Ultra Magnus guided the gunship down for a landing about two hundred meters from the building, dust billowing out from under the vehicle as it touched down. It was difficult to make out what this structure's original purpose had been – it was so old and weather-beaten that it seemed as if the only things holding it together were rust and encrusted dirt. The relentless sun had bleached its paint to a nondescript dun color, and the few windows had been shattered long ago and replaced with sheets of opaque plastic. A low wall of jagged rocks, topped with rods sharpened to deadly points, made a token, if pathetic, effort at defense.

It was shocking to imagine that Megatron, Commander of the Decepticons and would-be Emperor of Cybertron, had sunk so low that he would resort to hiding in such a decrepit shelter on a desolate Fringe world. But somehow, Prime wasn't entirely surprised. In the past few months the Autobots had captured stronghold after stronghold, scattering Megatron's forces and driving him further and further to the edges of the galaxy. All his closest officers were dead or imprisoned, the vast majority of his troops deserted or destroyed… and now, he had finally run out of places to hide. Here he would make his final stand – though whether said stand ended in his capture or his destruction Prime could only speculate.

"You sure he's here?" asked Sunstreaker, features screwed up in a doubtful grimace. "Usually Megatron's hideouts are a lot more flamboyant than this."

"According to our information source, this is the place," Prowl replied.

"Yeah, but that information source was _Starscream,_ " Sideswipe pointed out. "You know how reliable THAT guy is."

"Enough," Prowl snapped. "Starscream may not be the most reliable source of intelligence, but our other information sources back up his claims."

"All the same, we must be cautious," Prime told his squad. "Spread out and surround the building. Keep a sharp optic out for traps. And remember – shoot to stun first, to kill only if you have no other option."

Sideswipe had just opened his mouth to offer a retort… but at that moment Prime's radio went off. He raised a hand to cut the red mech off as he listened.

 _If it was your intention to take me by surprise, Optimus Prime, you failed miserably._ Megatron's voice was heavy and weary even over the comm, but he still managed to squeeze a vestige of his usual mockery into his tone. _As always, you Autobots fail to know how to be stealthy._

Prime gestured sharply for the Autobots to keep moving, and answered the message as they rushed to encircle the building. _It's over, Megatron. We have you surrounded. Surrender peacefully and we will take you back to Cybertron unharmed._

A bitter chuckle in response. _I'm no fool, Optimus. Your troops are doubtless thirsty for oil after all this time. And I've long sworn to my own troops that I would sooner die in combat than turn myself over to the enemy._

 _Perhaps you have,_ Prime acknowledged. _But it's not too late to change your mind. Come out with your hands up. We can resolve this without oilshed._

Silence, lengthy and fraught with tension. Safeties clicked off and power cells whirred to life as every Autobot present trained their weapons on the run-down structure, awaiting an order or any sign of hostilities to open fire. Prime thumbed the safety on his own rifle, dreading what was to come. They would have to fight him into exhaustion or kill him to end this – even at the very end, with no army or subordinates to back him up, Megatron's pride would not allow him to surrender…

The next words over the radio nearly stopped Prime's spark in its chamber. _I accept your terms under one condition._

It took Prime a moment to gather his thoughts enough to reply. _I thought you swore to die before surrendering._

 _Do you_ want _to continue the carnage, Optimus? That's highly unlike you._ Megatron's words wavered despite his anger, and it struck Prime just how very tired he sounded. _We're both sick of this war, admit it… and there comes a point when continuing to fight the inevitable is futile. And I have long since passed it._

To his surprise, he found he could spare a burst of sympathy for the Decepticon leader – he had been fleeing nonstop for months, fighting for every day of continued freedom, watching as his most loyal followers fell in battle or abandoned him to save their own plating. Even the most stalwart of mechs couldn't pass through that trial unscathed.

He had not expected Megatron to take him up on his offer… but if it meant a little less oil spilled to end the war, so much the better. And if it came with some sort of condition attached, so be it… provided it was a condition he could reasonably fulfill.

 _Name your terms,_ Prime told him.

Megatron's next words stunned him all over again: _You may do what you will with me… all I ask is that you take care of my son._

* * *

The inside of the building that served as Megatron's last stand was just as run-down and derelict as the outside – the walls patched with rust, the stone floor so crazed with cracks that it caught at the soles of one's pedes, every surface dingy with grime. The two rooms that made up the interior were startlingly bare, with only a few empty crates occupying the first room Prime and his escort entered. A single energon cube sat atop one crate, empty save for the faintest sliver of glimmering violet at the bottom.

"Small wonder he surrendered," Ratchet noted. "He's at the slaggin'-aft end of his fuel supply. How's he surviving in these conditions, let alone with a…" He couldn't seem to bring himself to finish that sentence.

Prime couldn't exactly blame him for his reluctance to complete that thought. He was having a hard time processing it himself. Megatron had reproduced. Megatron, the most notorious tyrant and murderer in Cybertron's history, had created a sparkling. That was just as unbelievable, if not more so, as the thought of him surrendering without a fight... but then, the day's events seemed bound and determined to throw the impossible at the Prime's team.

"Orders, sir?" asked Bumblebee, looking up at the Autobot commander.

"Cover me," he replied. "I'm going in the next room. Be prepared for traps or an ambush… but don't go in shooting unless you have to. If there truly is a sparkling in there, I won't risk them being injured."

Ratchet and Bumblebee nodded solemnly and moved to flank him on either side. Ultra Magnus had balked at his choice of troops to take into the building, urging him to take a more experienced soldier instead, but Prime wanted Autobots who would not only fight if necessary but be gentle if they encountered a child. Son of Megatron or not, he had no desire to traumatize the sparkling any more than necessary.

Prime braced himself, then reached for the door and eased it open, adjusting his optics to the darkness of the next room.

In stark contrast to the first room, this chamber was fairly clean, though rust still mottled the walls. A few more supply crates were piled in the corners, and some effort had been made to arrange them to look more like furniture than just stacks of boxes. A thin sleeping pad lay at the far side of the room, close to the wall, and a small form lay curled atop it, only his head poking out from beneath a ragged thermal blanket.

"Primus," Bumblebee murmured. "He was telling the truth."

"Indeed," Prime replied softly, unable to take his optics off the little form. Megatron's sparkling was almost the same size as Orion, and while size was hardly an indication of development he wondered if perhaps the child wasn't the same age as his own son. And that, in turn, made a whole slew of questions pour through his CPU – how old was this child, was Megatron the sire or carrier, who was his other parent, how much trauma had the child already witnessed as he'd fled the Autobot forces along with his father...

"Permission to be the first to examine him, Prime," Ratchet requested, cutting into his leader's thoughts. "If he's in the same shape as Megatron, I'm going to need to stabilize him before we can move him."

Prime winced at the thought, but nodded to indicate Ratchet could proceed. When Megatron had emerged from his shelter, arms raised in surrender, he had been such a changed mechanism from the proud tyrant Prime had faced so many times on the battlefield that he'd hardly recognized him. He'd been dirty, dented, his armor scorched and cracked from countless skirmishes, a ragged wound in his side so caked with rust infection it was a wonder he was still walking. And he had borne the signs of a mech close to shutdown from energy deprivation – dim optics, shaking limbs, systems that rattled and whined with every movement.

It had made Prime's spark lurch in its chamber to see an adult mech, even Megatron, suffering so terribly… and the thought of a sparkling in similar shape made his tanks churn with horror. At least in Ratchet's hands the child had a chance, and he silently thanked Elita for insisting he bring the medic on this mission.

Ratchet crouched beside the sleeping pad, and he reached out with one crimson hand to pull the blanket away. It slid off the sparkling's chassis to reveal chunky armor, Megatron's distinctive silver but with vivid royal purple at the wrists, shins, hips, and shoulders. The violet helm bore the distinctive "bucket" shape unique to Megatron's design, but the addition of pricked headfins gave him a curiously elfin look. And to Prime's relief, the sparkling was clean and healthy-looking, and slept calmly and without the tremors typical of an energon-starvation victim.

"I'm going to give him a scan to be sure," Ratchet said, voice soft with relief as well as the desire to not wake the child. "But he seems healthy. In much better shape than his guardian, at any rate."

Prime felt the tension in his spark ease at that… though he had to wonder just how the sparkling could be so healthy when his creator was in such dire straits. Was Megatron faking his injuries and weakness to get the Autobots to lower their guard? Impossible – he might have been able to fool soldiers, but not Ratchet and his scans. And he had a hard time believing Megatron's pride would allow him to play the "wounded gamma-gazelle gambit" for very long.

The alternative was almost unbelievable… but Prime had to acknowledge it as truth. Megatron had neglected his own well-being for the sake of the child, even sacrificing his own fuel rations to keep him alive and healthy. Perhaps there was some measure of mercy in that iron spark after all – or perhaps he was just that desperate to ensure his heir survived. Most likely some of both.

The sparkling shifted in his sleep, and Ratchet drew back for fear of waking him. But the little mech simply curled back up, hugging the stuffed purple griffon toy in his arms closer to his chest, and drifted back into recharge.

"Prime… what are we going to do with him?" Bumblebee asked.

Prime leveled an even gaze at the yellow spy. "What we promised Megatron we would do. Take him back to Cybertron and raise him. Do you honestly think we'd leave him behind?"

"Of course not!" Bumblebee protested. "But… sir… this is Megatron's kid. And I know he's just a kid and can't control who created him, but… how are the Autobots gonna react?"

That was a question even Prime didn't know the answer to. But it did not change the fact that he had made a deal with Megatron… or that for all the Great Slagmaker's crimes, this child was an innocent, a sparkling who had no control over his heritage. And he did not deserve to suffer for the sins of his father.

Ratchet finally completed his scan and gathered the sparkling up in his arms, griffon toy and all. "Should we take anything else, sir?"

Prime shook his head. There was little in this building worth anything, let alone vital to taking care of the sparkling. The only exception might be records of the child's creation, but doubtless Megatron had archived them somewhere in the databanks in Kaon. Once they had full control over that city, they could do a more thorough search there.

The sparkling slept calmly until they left the building and approached the gunship. Mirage and Ultra Magnus stood on either side of a kneeling Megatron, guns held to their chests, optics fixed on him as if daring him to so much as twitch without warning. Megatron, for his part, kept his gaze on the rocky ground, refusing to give his captors the satisfaction of optic contact.

Ironhide was the first to spot the little form in Ratchet's arms, and he was not shy about expressing his shock. "Fraggin' Primus on a stick! Ol' Buckethead wasn't kiddin'!"

That set off a round of excited chatter from the Autobots. Ratchet fixed his most ferocious glower at them, but it was too late – the spike in the noise level woke the sparkling in his arms. He stared up at the unfamiliar mech carrying him for a few seconds before uttering a terrified wail, writhing in his arms.

"Frag it all to the Pit," Ratchet snarled, struggling to keep ahold of the squirming sparkling.

"Don't drop him!" Bumblebee shouted, optics wide with horror.

"What the _slag_ do you think I'm trying to do?!" demanded Ratchet as the sparkling bucked in his arms, struggling to break free.

A voice cut through the sparkling's screams and the general noise, one that drew everyone's attention: "Caliber!"

The sparkling froze, and his optics – not red, but a blazing amber – fixed on Megatron's kneeling form. "Daddy!"

Megatron was no longer staring at the ground – his optics, dim with exhaustion, were now locked on the child in the medic's arms. Mirage and Ultra Magnus both had their weapons drawn and aimed at him, but he seemed heedless of their threat. All his attention was fixed on his son.

"Caliber… go with them," Megatron ordered. "Go with Optimus Prime."

The sparkling – Caliber – shook his head. "I don't wanna leave you!"

"We talked about this," Megatron replied, voice soft but firm. "Go with the Autobots. They will ensure you are taken care of."

"But Daddy…" Caliber's voice was plaintive, tears of optic cleanser streaking down his face, but already his struggles against Ratchet's grip eased.

"No buts." Megatron wobbled, nearly toppling face-first in the dirt, but caught himself in time. "Go… my son. Live. Fulfill… fulfill your destiny."

"Enough of that," Ultra Magnus barked, and he grabbed Megatron by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. "Get him aboard."

Megatron locked optics with Prime as he was hauled aboard the gunship. Neither mech spoke, but Prime gave his old foe a slight nod that said everything he needed to – that he would take care of Caliber, no matter the cost. Megatron nodded back in acknowledgement, and Prime thought he could see something in the warlord's frame relax, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Once their captive was aboard, Prime turned to Ratchet. "How is he?"

Ratchet held the sparkling close, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe his quiet sobbing. "Overheated, but given how emotional THAT had to be for him, I don't blame him. Fraggit, and here we were trying not to traumatize him further."

"Caliber," Bumblebee repeated, testing the name out with a funny expression. "Guess it fits that he'd get a gun name… are we gonna change it at all?"

Prime shook his head, and opened his arms to take Caliber from Ratchet. "I think this little one has gone through enough change at the moment. For now… for now he needs a stable environment. A place that will give him the security he needs until a more permanent solution can be found."

"And what sort of stable environment do you propose?" asked Ratchet, though his expression indicated that he knew exactly what Prime had in mind already.

Despite the turbulent events of the day, Prime couldn't suppress a slight smile beneath his mask. "I think I know just the place."


	2. Sparkling's Fate

" _It is done, Lord Megatron," Shockwave announced, touching a control to bring the holo-blueprint to life over his workbench. "Designs for the Annihilator have been finalized."_

 _The Decepticon commander didn't bother to hide a smile of triumphant pleasure. Even in the form of a three-dimensional blueprint, it was glorious - a thing of terrible beauty, the ultimate weapon. Megatron had ordered the construction of many instruments of destruction over the course of this war, varied in their design and effect but with the same goal of pushing the Decepticons closer to victory. Some had been ridiculous, others lethally effective, still others functional but flawed in some way that had backfired at the worst possible moment._

 _This one, however… this one would outstrip all the others in sheer destructive capability. And it would not only eliminate Optimus Prime once and for all, but would gain the Decepticons victory at long last._

 _Shockwave reached out and adjusted the controls on the holo-display, rotating the image to give Megatron a better look from another angle. "I have construction crews ready to move at your command to begin the prototype, my Lord."_

 _Megatron shook his head. "Build the final weapon."_

 _Shockwave's headfins flicked in response, but his voice remained level. "Lord Megatron, it is customary to build an initial prototype first. The weapon will need to be tested-"_

" _Time is of the essence, Shockwave," Megatron countered. "Build the weapon. I intend to test it on the Autobot forces once it is completed."_

 _Shockwave was silent a moment, as if pondering whether it was worth arguing with his commander over the matter. In the end, he acquiesced with a nod. "As you command, Lord Megatron."_

 _Megatron kept his gaze on the weapon, marveling at its design. This was the culmination of years of research and design, and if all went well the payoff would be tremendous. A Cybertron fully under his control, without the Autobot rebels to undermine his rule. A Cybertron he could reshape into the utopia the Decepticons deserved - a world where a mechanism's worth was determined not by some archaic caste system, but their own strength and ability._

 _And with the weapon ready to be built, he saw no reason why he could not take the first step in his next plan. For that, however, he needed the aid of another._

" _Is there anything else you require, Lord Megatron?"_

 _Megatron knew full well the question was rhetorical, a mere habit of a loyal officer… yet it seemed as good an opening as any to broach the subject. "Our forces are on the cusp of crushing the Autobots once and for all. Soon, very soon, Cybertron will be under our control. And once that happens… I will require an heir."_

 _Shockwave's gaze had remained on the holo, but now he turned to face his leader. "An heir?"_

" _Did I stutter? I want an heir to my throne. Should the unthinkable happen and I fall in battle, I won't have the Decepticons self-destructing as they squabble over a power vacuum. I want a competent mechanism to take the throne in my stead… and who better than one that shares my spark and programming, who has been raised as a leader?"_

 _Shockwave considered this, then nodded. "A logical plan, my Lord. But how do you intend to produce an heir? With all keys to Vector Sigma lost or destroyed-"_

" _How do you think new life was created in the old days?" Megatron cut in. "Before the old Council declared that any mechs sparked without Vector Sigma were abominations to be shunned and destroyed? We are perfectly capable of reproducing without the keys - only the war and the archaic laws of the so-called Golden Age have held us back." He smirked. "It is only fitting, then, that my heir will flout the old restrictions entirely."_

" _Fitting, perhaps," Shockwave conceded. "But the creation of a sparkling without the assistance of Vector Sigma requires two mechanisms - one to serve as a sire, the other as carrier."_

" _I don't need a biology lesson," Megatron growled. "I know full well how new life is sparked."_

" _Still… have you determined a suitable candidate to carry your heir?" Shockwave didn't even question whether Megatron would sire or carry the new spark. "Or do you wish my assistance in finding one?"_

 _Megatron hesitated, and for the first time that day he felt his confidence waver. He had no doubts whatsoever about the Annihilator's abilities, nor did he doubt the inevitable outcome of the war for even a second. But now, confronted with this question from his officer, he couldn't seem to voice the answer._

Just spit it out, _he scolded himself._ You're the Commander of the Decepticons, Emperor of Cybertron. You're above foolishness like this. _But somehow he couldn't help but feel immensely awkward in this situation. And knowing that Shockwave was his most loyal lieutenant and was unlikely to balk at his reply didn't ease that discomfort._

" _Lord Megatron?" Shockwave's headfins flicked again._

 _Megatron drew his shoulders back, setting his jaw and schooling his expression into something far more confident than he felt. Best to get this over with, without showing weakness. "I've already determined the most likely candidate… and it is you, Shockwave."_

 _Silence. The violet mech's optic brightened, and his headfins angled outward in his best attempt at a surprised expression._

" _I'm not requesting a bond of conjux endura," Megatron went on, the words flowing more easily now that the worst was over with. "This is an arrangement solely to produce an heir for the Decepticon throne, nothing more. But of all the Decepticons under my command, I've deemed you the most fit."_

 _That was part of the truth, actually - Megatron had considered his choice for the carrier of his eventual offspring long and hard, debating between two possibilities. There had been no other candidates besides those two… it was deciding between the two that was the challenge. Both Shockwave and Soundwave were unquestionably loyal, not to mention physically fit for the carriage of an extra spark. Not to mention that Soundwave, as a cassette-carrier, had experience with raising smaller mechs, and while Shockwave didn't have that experience, he was quite capable of learning it._

 _In the end, he had decided on Shockwave. Soundwave would have accepted the burden without question, but still fought on the front lines and served the Decepticon forces in capacities he trusted to no other mech. Shockwave's duties were in Polyhex, far from the actual fighting and able to be adjusted to accommodate raising a sparkling. And while perhaps not naturally the parental type, he would be a dutiful caretaker… and be dedicated to the cause of raising and educating his heir._

 _Shockwave was silent a moment longer. Then his headfins pricked up to their normal position, and he nodded once._

" _It would be an honor to carry your heir, Lord Megatron," he replied. "I can assure you that my spark is in good health, and I possess strong programming that will be an asset when passed on to your offspring. I'm well-suited for the carriage of an additional spark-"_

" _Yes, yes," Megatron cut in, waving away Shockwave's list of qualifications - why did the violet mech have to make this more awkward than it already was? "Your loyalty to the cause will not go unrewarded."_

" _True loyalty requires no reward, my Lord," Shockwave replied. "When shall we begin? I have the next four solar cycles free."_

 _This time Megatron didn't even bother hiding a wince. "Not tonight," he replied. "But soon."_

 _Shockwave nodded. "Inform me when you are ready, Lord Megatron." And he turned back to the holo-blueprint, as calm and unruffled as if he discussed interfacing with his commanding officer on a regular basis._

 _Megatron turned and stalked from the room, a glow of anticipation replacing the discomfort as he went. Victory was within his grasp… and soon he would have a son or daughter, a worthy successor to his throne. Soon, all would be in place to ensure the Decepticons ruled Cybertron forever._

* * *

It had been many vorns since a full Council had sat in the Great Chambers of Iacon - the last Council had been ruthlessly mown down by Decepticon insurrectionists in the early days of the war. Even now, only a portion of the old Council seats had been filled, one by a survivor of Megatron's destruction vorns before, the others by newly elected mechs. And just as it would take centuries before Cybertron was fully healed from its devastating conflict, it would be some time before a complete Council took this chamber again.

For now, however, the five mechs currently sitting on the Council - Ultra Magnus, Kup, Dai Atlas, Star Saber, and Emirate Xaaron - would suffice. They listened quietly as Prime finished delivering his account of Megatron's capture, solemn and attentive… until the news of what else they had found on that world was met with audible gasps of shock from all save Magnus.

"Tell me you're joking," Star Saber demanded.

"I wouldn't joke about something of this magnitude," Prime assured him. "We found a sparkling in Megatron's care. He declared it his, and a CNA scan confirms it."

"Primus," Kup groaned, reaching up to rub his forehead. "What kinda idiot spawns a kid when it's obvious their faction's losin' the war?"

"Judging by the sparkling's age, he was sparked before the Spiralis Disaster," Prime replied. "Before the tide turned in our favor."

"And at the point when Megatron probably felt he had victory in the bag, so to speak," Dai Atlas noted, nodding. "It makes sense."

"It does NOT make sense," Star Saber countered. "Why in blazes would Megatron, of all mechs, want a sparkling? He certainly isn't the nurturing type. And what mech or femme was insane enough to be willing to reproduce with him?"

Prime and Ultra Magnus exchanged a long-suffering glance. Those questions had been debated endlessly amongst his team the entire trip back to Cybertron, and they'd come up with no satisfactory answers then either. Megatron might have answered… but Ratchet had put him into emergency stasis shortly after his capture, and as far as they knew he still hadn't awakened. He'd be in no shape to answer questions for awhile yet.

"Once our occupation of Kaon is secure, we can send a team to the Decepticon archives," Ultra Magnus said at last. "The sparkling's creation date and lineage should be recorded there-"

"Or you can save yourselves a lot of wasted effort and ask someone who knows."

Prime scowled and turned to face the speaker. In all the excitement Caliber's existence had generated amongst the Council, he'd almost forgotten that Starscream was present. Almost.

The former Air Commander of the Decepticon forces smirked back at Prime, as if he were the rightful ruler of Cybertron and not a prisoner of war. His white-and-scarlet armor was riddled with dents and scratches, one wing had been bent at an angle that looked painful even to a non-flier, and his wrists were cuffed with thick energy bands, but the Seeker was doing his best to look dignified in spite of everything. Indeed, the look he offered both Prime and the Council was nothing short of insufferably smug.

"What's the matter?" Starscream sneered. "The high and mighty Optimus Prime considers it beneath him to ask a captive mech for information?"

"I'll remind you that you're still a prisoner of war, Starscream," Ultra Magnus informed him sharply. "If you continue to disrespect the Prime, you'll be returned to your cell immediately."

Starscream snickered. "And here I thought your kind were supposed to be merciful." He said the word "merciful" as if it were somehow profane. "And really, hasn't my information been reliable thus far? You never would have found Megatron without it."

Prime narrowed his optics. He was fully aware that Starscream had given up the location of Megatron's hideout in exchange for leniency, deftly avoiding a possible death sentence in exchange for that vital bit of intelligence. But he couldn't help but wonder if the Air Commander hadn't had some other motive for betraying Megatron. There was no love lost between the warlord and the Seeker, after all, and it would be like him to find one last means of stabbing Megatron in the back even as their cause collapsed around them.

"If you know the answer, perhaps you would share it with us," Prime suggested, keeping his suspicions to himself for the moment. "Who is Caliber's second creator, and why did Megatron choose to sire or carry a son?"

Starscream snorted. "Carry? He wouldn't lower himself to THAT. He sired the brat. As for your other questions… just how much are the answers worth to you?"

"We've already cut one deal with you, ya screechy tin turkey," Kup grumbled. "What makes ya think we'll cut another?"

Starscream's smirk deepened. "Then I have nothing to say."

"Please," Prime pressed. "This information could help us decide how best to help Caliber. Surely the life of a child is worth something to you."

Starscream's optics flashed, and he gave an incredulous snort. "The child isn't mine. Why should I care?"

"Enough," Xaaron rumbled, his deep voice cutting off Prime's attempt to retort. "The prisoner is uncooperative. He won't be of any further help. Guards, escort him back to his cell."

Starscream hissed as Springer and Tracks grabbed him by the arms to haul him none too gently away. He fixed the Council with a look of utter hatred… then gave Prime a slimy grin.

"At least YOU know where to find me if you change your mind and wish to negotiate," he told him. "And tell the brat hello from me."

Ultra Magnus shook his head as the doors closed behind Starscream and his guards. "Why do I get the feeling that we're going to regret keeping him alive?"

"We have other officers we can question for this information," Dai Atlas pointed out. "Shockwave, Straxus, and Overlord were all killed in action, but we still have Soundwave and Deszaras in prison. As well as several other mechs who worked closely with Megatron and might know - Skywarp, Thundercracker, Hook and his Constructicons..."

"We will offer no more deals," Xaaron argued. "No more leniency in exchange for information. We will shortly have access to the Kaon archives, and we can find the answers there." He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers before him, looking contemplative. "Now… about the sparkling."

"Caliber," Prime corrected. "His designation is Caliber."

"'Course he'd get a warlike name right off the bat," Kup muttered. "We'd better change it first thing before he gets too comfortable with it."

"How is the child?" asked Dai Atlas, golden optics alight with concern. "You mentioned Megatron was in dire straits when you found him…"

"Healthy and unharmed," Prime replied. "Ratchet gave him a complete examination as soon as we landed. He's a little weak from living on diluted energon for a short time, but with a little time and some supplements he'll recover."

Dai relaxed. "Good… I've always firmly believed that kids don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire of this war. Even Decepticon ones."

"This isn't just some Decepticon kid we plucked from the ruins," Star Saber retorted. "This is the son of Megatron! The Great Slagmaker himself! What are we supposed to do with a sparkling derived from the programming of the worst war criminal in our recorded history?!"

"An excellent point," Ultra Magnus added. "One that we need to address quickly. Once the word gets out to the Autobots at large that we're harboring Megatron's sparkling, there's going to be a significant outcry."

"Then we do our best to assure them that he isn't a threat," Prime replied evenly.

Star Saber balked. "You can't be serious. This is the son of Megatron! If that doesn't constitute a threat-"

"He's a _child,_ " Prime retorted, optics bright with anger. "Not even a vorn old, not even equipped with weaponry, let alone any battle training. I hardly see how that constitutes a threat to anyone."

"You of all mechs should know just how dangerous a mech with Megatron's programming can be!" Star Saber countered. "And who's to say he won't turn out exactly like his sire? Do we really want to repeat history?"

"For Sigma's sake, Star, we're talking about a sparkling here!" Dai Atlas retorted. "Not some war criminal! And why are we all acting like the kid's Megatron Junior here? Mechs don't always grow up to be copies of their creators, after all."

"He's still sparked from Megatron," Star Saber shot back. "With enough of his programming that he's bound to be dangerous. Maybe it's safest for the Autobots - and Cybertron as a whole - to just quietly be rid of him."

Prime's spark lurched in response. He knew Star Saber had more experience as a warrior than a statesmech - making his election to the Council a surprise to many - but he hadn't thought him to be THIS ruthless. "You dare suggest we murder a child, Star Saber?"

"You make it sound so cruel," Star Saber replied. "But it'd be safest for all of us… and more merciful for the child as well. A simple shutdown, one we can blame on his sire's neglect or an undiagnosed malfunction, will do the trick."

Anger built up steadily in Prime's spark with every word Star Saber spoke, until it burned so brightly it threatened to melt his chest plates. The Matrix seethed with energy, as if the artifact was just as enraged at the callous discussion of Caliber's fate as he was. How could a fellow Autobot even THINK such an action acceptable, let alone propose it before a Prime and his fellow Council members?

He brought a fist down on the table with enough force to dent the metal, cutting off Star Saber's words. "We will NOT shut Caliber down. Not now. Not EVER. And if I hear one more word in favor of killing a sparkling-"

"Enough!" Xaaron slapped his own palm onto the table to end Prime's tirade. "Enough out of both of you. Star Saber's concerns regarding the sparkling are valid… but we will not stoop to killing a child. The days of culling sparklings with unacceptable parentage or programming are long behind us."

Star Saber's optics flared, but he leaned back in his seat, silent. Prime relaxed slightly, a measure of anger draining away… but not all of it. Xaaron's words were just a reminder of the ugliness that had lurked in their society even before the war.

"So the sparkling lives," Kup noted, scowling. "That doesn't explain what the slag we're gonna do with it."

"I already had a plan in mind for _him,_ " Prime replied, emphasizing the pronoun. "I intended to raise him."

Ultra Magnus' jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

"I seem to be getting that a lot today," Prime noted dryly. "Megatron's terms of surrender were clear - he would turn himself in if I took care of his son. And I intend to fulfil that promise."

"A promise to the Slagmaker?" Star Saber protested. "That's insane! And at any rate, he's our prisoner now. He has no power to hold you to that promise."

"He doesn't," Prime acknowledged, "but I intend to keep my promise anyhow."

"Honorable of you," Xaaron noted, not without some sarcasm. "But not a course of action I recommend. You already have a son, as I recall - do you really want the added burden of raising another?"

"I will find a way to make it work. Besides, Orion would appreciate a playmate, I think."

Kup grunted, shifting back in his seat. "You're crazy, Optimus. That kid's gonna be trouble. And while I don't agree with Mr. Murder over here…" He jerked a thumb toward Star Saber, who glowered at the old warhorse. "...I still think there's enough strikes 'gainst this kid to make him dangerous. And do ya really WANT a dangerous kid around your son?"

Prime wanted to retort that Caliber was very young, extremely terrified, and only dangerous toward the stuffed griffon that he had clung to so desperately on the trip back to Cybertron he had nearly ripped it. Instead he said "And just what do you propose we do with him instead?"

"Keep 'im locked up," Kup suggested. "Not in prison - just some facility where we can keep an optic on 'im 'til we're sure what kind've programming he's inherited from his sire."

"A prison, then," Prime replied, voice full of steel. "That's exactly what you're describing. You'd have us make a child prisoner out of him?"

"Never said that," Kup retorted, scowling.

"Perhaps we have another option," said Xaaron, his voice mild. "Not death, not imprisonment… but a correction nonetheless. If it is his sire's programming that makes this child potentially dangerous, then we simply locate a mnemosurgeon willing to overwrite said programming."

Prime's anger had cooled somewhat since Star Saber's barbaric suggestion had been shot down… but it flared back to life at Xaaron's words. "We will do nothing of the sort."

"Even for the safety of the sparkling and those around him?" Xaaron demanded. "It will be a swift, painless procedure, and will preemptively neutralize any threat the get of Megatron may pose on the Autobots. He will be docile and manageable, and in the hands of a skilled enough mnemosurgeon he won't even remember what was done."

Prime wasn't sure what disgusted him more - that the senior member of the Autobot Council was proposing such a heinous procedure be carried out on a mere child, or that the other members of the council were nodding their agreement. Even Dai Atlas, the one member who seemed most sympathetic toward Caliber, voiced no protest. Had the war really taken such a toll on their kind, that they were willing to condone the brainwashing of an innocent sparkling simply because of a heritage he had no control over?

"We will do _nothing_ of the sort," Prime repeated. "Caliber will not be killed. He will not be imprisoned or locked up in any sort of facility. And he will not be CPU-washed into a docile blank slate. He will be treated like any other orphan of this war - placed with a family and raised with compassion and care."

"Optimus, be reasonable," Magnus insisted. "This is the Council. You don't have the power to override our decisions."

Despite his anger, Prime couldn't suppress a wicked grin beneath his mask. "Theoretically, you're right, Magnus. But whatever decision the Council makes, they cannot force me to abide by it. And just think of how the Autobots will react when they find out the Council tried to force their Prime - and their war hero - into a decision he didn't agree with."

Magnus sputtered, outraged at the very thought of a Prime refusing to obey the Council. Star Saber and Kup began talking at the same moment, pitching their voices louder in an effort to be heard over the other, while Dai Atlas simply stared at Prime as if he'd just blown a fuse in his CPU. Xaaron narrowed his golden optics, and though his mouth plates remained serene, his fists clenched against the arms of his chair.

"I am taking Caliber home," he went on. "I will raise him as if he were my own son. He is a victim of this war, and that deserves our compassion, not our fear and derision."

"You will regret this, Prime," Xaaron retorted, voice full of steel. "Think of your conjux and your son. What makes you think THEY will stand for this - get back here! We're not through discussing this-"

The doors slammed shut behind Prime, cutting off whatever else Xaaron had to say. He walked on, bracing himself for a guard to intercept him and escort him back. He didn't think they would go that far - the Council wouldn't want to lose too much face, even over a matter like this - but one could never be sure…

 _Primus save me from ever pulling my rank like that again,_ he thought with a sigh. Under normal circumstances he would have respected a decision by the new Council, if only to help bolster their authority during these turbulent times. But the fate of a very young child had been at stake, and that, he felt, was worth using his reputation as both Prime and the ultimate hero of the war to defy the Council.

 _Prime, are you available?_ Ratchet's voice pinged over the comm. _Has the Council finished their bickering yet?_

 _They have not, but I am available,_ Prime replied. _How fares Caliber?_

 _He's scared, but otherwise fine. Didn't give me any problems with the examination, though that could just be because he's too scared to move._

 _Poor little one. And Megatron?_

A moment of silence. _He's coming online, slowly but surely. Once he's fully awake they're going to haul his aft to the prison facility in Kalis._ Ratchet's voice was oddly reflective as he spoke, as if he weren't sure how to feel about that fact.

Truth be told, Prime didn't know how to feel about it either. There was no question that Megatron deserved to languish in prison for his crimes, but knowing he had a son - and what sort of sacrifices he'd made to ensure his safety - complicated everything.

 _I'm coming to retrieve Caliber and take him home. If you could have the discharge filework ready by the time I get there, I'd be grateful._

 _Are you sure about this?_

 _Not you too, Ratchet. You've spent more time around the sparkling than any other Autobot thus far - do you honestly believe he's a threat?_

 _He's about as threatening as an electro-kitten,_ Ratchet confessed. _But you and Elita are already raising one child together - are you sure you can handle another, one as traumatized as this? And what's Elita have to say about all this?_

He hesitated… and Ratchet read the truth in his silence. _Primus fraggit, you haven't even told her, have you? Do you have a death wish, Optimus?_

Prime winced at Ratchet's brutal but honest assessment. He had commed Elita soon after landing, letting her know he'd arrived safely and that he'd be home as soon as he made his report to the Council… but he had yet to tell her about Caliber, or that he intended to bring him home with him. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, he had theorized.

 _She'll agree to this,_ he assured Ratchet with more confidence than he felt. _She won't turn a child away. And surely she'll understand._

 _For your sake AND Caliber's, I hope you're right. Get your aft down here, then. The kid's going to need some reassurance after all he's been through, and Primus knows I'm not good with the little ones._

Prime smiled a little behind his mask as he picked up his pace, making for the Iacon Base's medical center. Ratchet was far better with sparklings than he gave himself credit for; being suddenly charged with tending to the child of a feared Decepticon leader had just thrown him off center. Which was fair - it had done the same for everyone involved. He just hoped that they could all overcome it, for Caliber's sake.

* * *

It was too bright in here. After months of seeking shelter in caves, abandoned mines, and unlit or dimly-lit abandoned bases and facilities, the bright lights of the medical center were too much for Caliber's optics to handle. He kept them shuttered tightly except when the white mech had asked him to open them for an examination, and even then he'd closed them again and tucked his face in Purple's wings the moment he was done.

"We're done, little one," the white mech said in a soothing tone. "It's okay. You're somewhere safe. No one's going to hurt you here."

Caliber clutched his griffon tighter, burying his face in the soft material that made up the toy's body. He didn't believe that, not for a second. Mechs with blue optics always meant trouble - they chased him, or hurt his father, or grabbed mechs he knew and trusted and carried them away to never be seen again. Just because this one acted nice right now didn't mean he was going to stay nice.

"I know you've had it rough, little one," the mech went on. "I promise you, it's going to get better. We're going to make sure of that."

A hand rested on his back - a gentle touch, but it made him whimper and cringe anyhow. He didn't want the Autobot touching him. Not the mechs who'd hurt his father, who'd kept them running and hiding for so long, who'd blown up his home and his carrier with it…

The medic drew his hand back. "Sorry, little one… I'm sorry. Shhhh, it's okay… you're safe. I promise you're safe."

He whimpered again, shifting to put Purple between himself and the white mech as if the plushie could serve as a shield or a guard animal. Couldn't these mechs just leave him alone? He wanted to go home, he wanted his father, he wanted someone he loved and trusted to pick him up and tell him everything was going to be okay… that he didn't have to run anymore, that his family was here for him…

"Ratchet?" That new voice was deep yet warm… and somehow familiar. Had it belonged to one of the Autobots who had taken his father away? He couldn't remember - there had been such a babble of voices then that they all merged together at some point.

"Thank Primus you're here," the medic replied, his voice shifting from a soothing murmur to a grouchy rumble that almost reminded him of his father. "He's getting more skittish by the second. I don't often recommend sedating sparklings, but do you want me to give him something before you take him home? Just to make sure he doesn't make a break for it?"

"No!" The voice went sharp before softening again. "No… no sedatives. Nothing to alter him. Apologies, but dealing with the Council was… difficult."

"And they probably had their own suggestions on what to do with Caliber," Ratchet noted. "Poor thing… he's going to have a hard road ahead of him."

"Which is why it's our responsibility to smooth that road out for him as much as we can." The second speaker's voice drifted closer as he approached the table Caliber sat on. "Is he cleared to go?"

"I've got the filework all set up. Just needs a signature."

Caliber shivered as footsteps thumped closer to the table, and he tucked his face against Purple. _Leave me alone, leave me alone, Father come back, where are you…_

"Caliber."

The voice was soft, gentle, and despite himself Caliber looked up, squinting his optic shutters against the harsh medbay lights. The great scarlet-and-blue mech gazed back at him with optics that, while that threatening blue, were somehow kindly. He recognized him now - the Autobot who'd carried him onto the ship, and who held him while he cried for his father. Where had he gone… and why was he back now?

"Hello, little one." The mech pulled a chair over and sat beside the examination table, no longer looming over him so ominously. "I'm Optimus Prime. I'm going to be taking care of you."

Caliber stared fixedly at him, processing the words but not quite accepting them. Was this what his father had meant those weeks back, when he'd sat down on the sleeping pad with him for a quiet discussion?

 _If the Autobots come… go with them. Don't fight them, and don't run. Go with them. They will be kind to you, and will take care of you while I'm gone. Do you understand me, Caliber?_

He'd said "yes" at the time, but he hadn't truly understood. He hadn't imagined his father could ever leave him, or be taken away. Yet it had happened… and now the very mechs who had torn his parents away from him were looking at him kindly, gently. Was this what his father had meant? Was this Optimus Prime the one he was supposed to go with, to trust?

"I know you're scared," Prime said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. "I know you're hurting. It's okay to be afraid, or sad, or even angry. But I just want you to know that you're safe with us, and that I'm going to do all I can to take care of you and protect you."

Caliber clutched Purple tightly, like a lifeline, but he kept his gaze on the red mech. He didn't want to trust this Autobot who had helped take his father away… but he couldn't help but feel calmer as he listened to him. Ratchet had said words to this effect, but somehow, when they came from Optimus Prime, he believed them.

Prime regarded Caliber a moment longer, then raised his hands toward the sparkling. Caliber hesitated a long moment, then scooted closer, letting Prime lift him up and hold him to his chest.

"There we go," Prime murmured, settling him in his arms. "You're going to be okay."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Ratchet warned him. "You've still got to introduce him to Elita and Orion, after all."

"I know… but I'll get them to see that this is for the best. I made a promise, and I'm going to do my best to keep it."

Caliber wasn't sure what Prime meant by that… but for the first time since he'd woken up in Ratchet's arms, he felt a little safer. He wasn't sure if this feeling would last, but he would cling to it as long as he could.


	3. Orion and Caliber

_The projectile ricocheting off Optimus Prime's armor was barely a tap to a Cybertronian, but it caught his attention anyhow. His gaze moved from taking in the scenery of Portland's Cathedral Park to the child scurrying up to fetch the soccer ball that had bounced off the scarlet mech's shin. The boy stared up at Prime with an awed expression, then stooped to grab the ball and hurried away, flashing a grin over his shoulder as he went._

 _Prime couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. The Autobots had been a fixture of this area of Earth for so long that the locals pretty much treated them as slightly larger humans, and while they still attracted stares every now and then, no one raised much of a fuss about their presence. And the young ones in particular were delighted at having giant robotic life forms in their midst… and seemed curiously at ease around the Prime, even if most adults were understandably wary and respectful toward him._

 _Elita-1 watched the child run off to join his friends in their impromptu soccer game. "They're not afraid of you. That never ceases to amaze me – on every other organic world the natives seem to run and hide from us."_

" _Humans are a curiously fearless species," Prime noted. "Especially the children. I only hope that trait doesn't get them into trouble."_

 _Elita nodded, and her hand rested on his arm as they settled back in to watch the sun lower itself beyond the horizon. It was a mild evening, calm and peaceful, perfect for stealing a moment to spend with his bondmate in one of Portland's many parks. The war had kept them apart for so long, and he was determined to make the most of their time together._

It's a shame that it took a cataclysm to unite us, _he thought, a pang of sorrow lancing through his core. The Autobots had been steadily losing ground over the course of the past few years, but less than a year ago the Decepticons had made a final grand push, claiming the entire planet for themselves. The last of Prime's resistance fighters had fled the planet for their own safety, and many of those fighters had come to Earth in order to regroup and assess their resources… including Elita-1 and her squadron._

 _The loss of their homeworld saddened him deeply… and weighed his spark down with guilt. For though he mourned the loss of Cybertron and feared that the war was fast reaching a point of no return for the Autobots, he couldn't help but appreciate the fact that this turn of events meant Elita was by his side again. He shouldn't be thinking those thoughts… but they were there anyhow._

" _Don't," she urged, squeezing his arm. "Don't feel guilty. Just appreciate the moment."_

 _Prime frowned behind his mouthplate. "How did you know what I was thinking?"_

" _We've been together for a long time," she countered. "I can generally tell what's on your mind." She smirked a little. "But don't think this means the war's lost. If anything, it's just fragged my team off enough that we're determined to fight all the harder to win our home back. We're together on Earth… but I'm not going to rest until we can be together on Cybertron."_

 _He chuckled softly. "Still raring to fight, I see."_

" _Someone has to be. From the way a few mechs have been moping at the news from the home front, you'd think we just formally declared surrender."_

" _It's a hard setback, to be sure. But Megatron can't hold the planet forever. We'll find a way to return, and end this war once and for all."_

 _The two of them watched as the park slowly emptied with the coming dusk, families clearing up blankets and picnic supplies and the children wrapping up their soccer game. The young boy who had fetched the ball at Prime's feet ran toward a pair of adults who had just finished packing their cooler, and one of them grinned widely and scooped him up in a hug. A common enough sight… yet it tugged at Prime's spark all the same._

" _Optimus?" Elita squeezed his arm again. "You're drifting off again."_

 _Prime turned to face her, optics shining. "We should have one of our own."_

 _She smirked a little. "A what of our own? I'm not THAT good at reading your mind."_

" _A sparkling." He nodded toward the family as they walked off, each parent holding one of the child's hands. "A child of our own."_

 _Elita's optics flickered, and her smile faded. "Optimus… is this really the time to consider that? We're at war, practically refugees from our home planet… we don't even have access to Vector Sigma. What kind of circumstances are those for bringing a sparkling into the universe?"_

" _It's not ideal," Prime admitted, "but if we wait for the ideal circumstances, we'll be waiting forever. And we don't NEED Vector Sigma to have a child. A spark merge and an experienced medic will do."_

" _You act so casual about it," Elita noted, frowning._

" _I don't want to force you into a decision you don't agree with," Prime replied. "But please, think about it."_

 _She sighed. "I don't disagree with you. I've wanted one of our own too. But I wanted our child to emerge on a free Cybertron, without a war hanging over their head. I wanted them to have hope for a better future, not a life forever threatened by violence."_

" _I know… but perhaps our child can help us secure that future."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _How long has it been since any of our kind have had the courage to create new life? There are so few sparklings being created anymore, even fewer now that we've lost the Sigma Keys. My greatest fear is not that we will lose the war… but that there will soon be nothing left for us to fight for. No future generation to inherit Cybertron in our wake. Perhaps, by creating our own child, we can encourage other Autobots to do the same. Give them hope that there's a future for Cybertronians… and inspire them to fight to win the planet and make it safe for the next generation."_

 _Elita's expression softened at his words. "You're not just saying that to placate me, are you?"_

 _He shook his head. "I've wrestled with this for a long time, even before bringing it to you. I wanted to be sure I wasn't just being selfish in wanting to bring a new spark into the universe. But I feel within my own spark that it's best for us, and for the Autobots in general. Even the Matrix seems in accord with it."_

" _And I wouldn't want to argue with the Matrix," Elita noted, though her tone was light and teasing. "All right… we'll try for one. On one condition."_

" _Name it."_

" _If I end up carrying this one, you carry the next one."_

 _Prime laughed softly and took her hand, lacing his blue fingers through her white ones. "Let's see how the first one goes before we talk of another."_

" _And here I thought you'd leap at the chance to have a whole brood," Elita laughed. "You've always had a soft spot for the young ones… it's something I've always liked about you."_

* * *

"You brought home WHAT?!"

Orion looked up sharply from his play, the epic battle he'd been constructing from his action figures and toy cyberdragons forgotten in an instant. Mom sounded MAD – almost as mad as she had the time he'd dropped Dad's datapads in the trash compactor. She didn't lose her temper often, but when she did it was a sight to behold. The fact that it sounded like her temper was aimed at someone besides him eased his fear, but only a little.

"Elita, please." That voice was soft and urgent. "You're scaring him."

A thrill went through Orion's spark, squashing the fright he'd gotten at Mom's shout. Dad was home! He dropped the Firstforged figures he'd been holding and got to his feet, bolting for the entryway of their apartment. If Dad was home this soon, it must mean he'd won! Sure, Dad insisted there weren't really winners and losers when he went off to battle, but in Orion's CPU coming home alive and unhurt meant you'd won, right?

"What were you _thinking?_ " Mom snapped. "Did you honestly stop and think about the consequences before bringing home _his_ sparkling like some kind of stray turbo-pup?"

"He _needed_ me, Elita," Dad insisted. "I made a promise…"

Orion skidded into the entry… and froze, his excited greeting dying before it could emerge from his vocalizer. Dad still stood in the doorway, facing off against Mom's angry glare, his own optics blazing with a mix of emotions Orion couldn't quite identify. Neither one of them seemed to notice he was there, too caught up in their argument to catch his arrival.

But someone else had seen him, and a set of golden optics locked onto his own turquoise optics. Dad held an unfamiliar sparkling in his arms, a purple-and-silver mech with delicate-looking headfins framing his face. He clutched a wad of ragged purple fabric in his arms, and his entire frame shook with fright.

Orion stared at the sparkling a moment longer, then turned his attention back to his parents. What were they fighting about? And why had Dad brought home another sparkling? Somehow he got the feeling this wasn't another playmate like Zinc or Rhapsody, and that he wasn't just coming by to play for a few hours while the adults talked.

"You didn't think to ask me about this?" Mom went on, her voice quieter but no less hard. "I thought we were a team, Optimus. That we made decisions like this together. Why would you go behind my back like this?"

Orion had never seen his dad flinch so hard. "I'm sorry, Elita. You're right, I should have talked to you about it. But you didn't see the circumstances we found him in… or hear what the Council planned to do. They wanted to reprogram him, Elita… or even worse. I couldn't leave him to that fate."

"Worse…" Mom's optics darkened as the implications of that word sank in, though they flew right over Orion's head. "How could they? To a _child?_ "

Dad relaxed a little. "I fear this war has hardened many Autobots to a degree I didn't think possible. Caliber doesn't deserve to suffer, regardless of who his father is."

Mom nodded, but her lip plates were still set in a hard line. "But why bring him home? You could have easily placed him in a foster home, or even trusted him to one of the other Autobots. Goodness knows Jazz would have taken him in, or Hound, or even Ironhide and Chromia."

"I had to take him," Dad insisted. "He needs us. He needs a loving, stable home… and I know we can give that to him."

Mom gave Dad a long, hard look, so long that Orion began to fidget where he stood. Then she vented out a long sigh.

"You made this decision without my consent, but I'm not sparkless enough to throw him out," she said at last. "He can stay."

Dad's optics shone with relief. "Thank you, Elita. And I'm sorry. I won't make a decision like this without consulting you again."

Mom looked doubtful at that, but she only nodded in response. "All right, Orion, I know you're lurking back there. Come out now."

Orion had shrunk back into the doorway during his parents' discussion, but he crept out and dashed forward to hug his father about the legs. Dad chuckled and shifted the other sparkling to one arm in order to pat his son's helm.

"Hello, Orion," he murmured. "I missed you."

"Missed you!" Orion replied, squeezing his knee tightly before letting go. "Who's that?"

Dad knelt down and carefully set the purple sparkling on the floor. "I don't know how much of our discussion you overheard, little one, but… this is Caliber. He's going to be staying with us from now on."

Caliber pressed back against Dad's chassis, as if he needed contact with him to keep standing. He stared back at Orion with wide yellow optics, clinging to the bundle in his arms all the tighter. Up close Orion realized it was a stuffed griffon, wings ragged and fabric body worn thin in places from use.

 _What does Dad mean, he's staying with us?_ Was this a new sibling? A co-creation? But he thought there was a process involved in creating a new sparkling, even if he wasn't clear on the details of it quite yet. Adults didn't just randomly bring home new children, right?

"Say hello, Orion," Mom prompted.

Orion hesitated, then raised his hand. "Hi."

Caliber stared at him, then turned and buried his face against Dad's chest.

"Does he not talk?" Orion asked, looking up at Mom in confusion.

"He's very frightened," Dad explained, patting Caliber's back. "He's been through a lot for someone of his age. Give him some time."

"Why's he scared?" Orion asked. "What happened to him? Where's his creators?"

Mom and Dad exchanged a long look at that, and Orion felt his spark drop in its chamber. When Jazz had brought his daughter home, Dad had sat Orion down and explained to him that the war had hurt a lot of people, and that sometimes parents didn't come home from said war. Rhapsody had lost her own parents and was being raised by Jazz now… had Caliber lost his creators in a similar fashion?

"We'll talk about this later," Mom said at last. "Go play, Orion. Optimus, I hope you've at least given some thought to where the two of you are going to sleep tonight."

"I can always clear out my office to be his room… wait, the two of us?"

Mom raised an optic ridge. "Just because I'm letting him stay doesn't mean you're off the hook, dear. You're recharging on the couch tonight."

Dad let out a vent that was half-groan. "You can be ruthless, Elita." His gaze rested on Orion now. "Give me a little bit to get Caliber settled, all right?"

"'Kay. Then can I hear all about your mission?"

Dad nodded, his optics glowing with a soft smile. "I'll tell you all about it. I promise."

Orion nodded back and returned to his mock-battlefield in the living room, though his spark wasn't in the scenario anymore. So much had happened in the space of a few minutes, and he was still struggling to process it all. Seeing Mom and Dad argue had been frightening, and Caliber… he didn't know what to make of the newcomer. How long was he going to stay anyhow?

And there was something else the adults weren't telling him. He didn't know what it could be, but he could sense it regardless – they'd been dancing around it during their argument, trying very hard not to say it around him. Maybe Dad would tell him more when he talked about the mission to catch Megatron. He could hope, at any rate.

* * *

Prime had assumed that at some point, the novelty of watching Orion recharge would wear off. But almost an Earth decade later, he still found himself in his son's room almost every night, gazing with love and pride at his and Elita's creation as he slept. Orion was a ball of energy when online, constantly on the move and into anything he could get his hands on, and Prime wouldn't have him any other way… but it was still nice to see him quiet and at peace.

The sparkling twitched slightly in recharge, then settled back in amidst the tangle of his thermal blankets. His chunky armor gleamed a shade of violet-red, almost magenta, with cobalt-blue highlights at his wrists, shins, and the edges of his chestplate. His helm was jet-black and crowned with a small pair of sensory horns, and a streak of violet-red split the helm down the middle like a racing stripe.

Prime rested a careful hand on Orion's back, rubbing it gently before drawing away. His son had taken the news of Caliber joining their family well enough, though he could tell he was still confused about the new arrival. He couldn't tell him everything just yet – Orion thought of Megatron as pure evil, in the simplistic manner of a young child, and revealing that Caliber was Megatron's son would only cause problems at this point. But he hoped Orion would be understanding and compassionate of Caliber's situation regardless.

Speaking of Caliber… he ducked out of Orion's bedroom, stepping over a cluster of toy jets in the process. The silver-and-violet sparkling stood by the doorway where Prime had left him – in fact, it looked like he hadn't budged a centimeter since he'd set him down. He clutched his griffon toy to his chest, staring down at his feet with an utterly lost expression.

 _Poor little one._ If today had been confusing for Orion, it had to be utterly bewildering for Caliber. To be yanked from the last of his family and carted around and prodded by mechs that he'd probably been told all his life were his mortal enemies… And he wouldn't understand that he'd been lucky to avoid a number of terrible fates – starvation, execution, forced reprogramming. All he knew was that his world had been turned upside-down, and that he had nothing familiar to cling to anymore.

Prime crouched down before Caliber. He wanted to ask if he was all right, but that seemed an idiotic question given the circumstances. Of course the poor sparkling wasn't all right. But that was all the more reason to take care of him the best he could. And if that meant taking him on as another son… then so be it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. It had been a few hours since the evening energon break, and Caliber had barely touched his own cube. "There's plenty of fuel here, if you need it."

The sparkling shook his head.

"Then are you tired? Do you want to rest?"

Caliber started to shake his head, then reconsidered and nodded.

"We don't have a room for you yet," Prime told him – the decision to take Caliber in had been so spur-of-the-moment he hadn't even stopped to think about where the child was going to sleep. "Would you mind recharging with me for tonight?"

Caliber hesitated a long moment, then finally nodded.

"All right." Prime gathered the sparkling up in his arms, then stood and made his way toward his and Elita's shared quarters. Caliber tucked his face into the crook of his neck, and while he didn't relax fully he seemed calm enough. That was good as far as Prime was concerned – any plans to be the sparkling's guardian would have been quashed immediately if he'd been terrified of the Autobot commander.

The door to their quarters was locked, and his access code failed to open it. He groaned and tried the comm unit. _Don't tell me you were serious, Elita._

 _I was serious,_ she retorted. _I love you, Optimus, but I'm still mad at you. Besides, there's nothing in here that you absolutely need before morning._

He sighed deeply. Primus, she could be a stubborn one… though that was part of why he loved her so fiercely. _How long am I locked out?_

 _Let me think on that. Good night, Optimus._

 _Good night, Elita._ He shifted Caliber in his arms and made for the living room. The couch would be a cramped fit for him, but he'd make do, and the sparkling could recharge on his chest for tonight. Hopefully he wasn't a restless sleeper, though, or this could be a very uncomfortable night for both of them.

Caliber wriggled against his chest, turning his yellow gaze up to meet Prime's optics. "Op-mus?"

Prime opened his mouth to correct the sparkling, but then decided against it for the moment. If Caliber had finally regained enough courage to speak, he wasn't going to discourage him even if it meant mispronouncing his name. "Caliber?"

"I wanna go home."

His spark clenched painfully at those words. "You are home, little one. This is your home now."

Caliber whimpered, and soft sobs shook his chassis. "I want Daddy... I want Carrier… I wanna go home…"

Prime sat down on the couch and just held Caliber close, rocking him gently as he cried. His spark ached for the little mech – ripped from everything he'd known and loved, thrust into a completely unknown and even hostile world without warning. And he didn't even understand why he'd been separated from his father… he only knew that his father was out there somewhere, but beyond his reach.

For the first time, Prime wondered if he'd done the right thing. Being a father to Orion came second nature to him, but being a foster father to a sparkling with as troubled a history as Caliber was another matter entirely. He wasn't about to turn him over to the Council's twisted idea of mercy, but perhaps there were other mechs better suited to caring for a child like this…

The Matrix flared within his chest, stilling those thoughts. It pulsed strongly, warmly, and Caliber seemed to respond to that, snuggling into Prime's chest and his sobs trailing off into a steady venting. Prime watched in amazement as the sparkling drifted off. He knew the artifact had a definite mind of its own, and in the past it had reacted in similar fashion to Orion, but to know it took an interest in Caliber's fate as well…

 _These children are our future,_ he thought, settling the sparkling more comfortably against his chestplates. _The future of Cybertron. Regardless of their parentage or what faction they descended from, they will shape our kind's destiny. But it's up to us to make sure they're prepared for that responsibility._

Well… that responsibility was a long way off for Orion and Caliber. For now, Prime was determined to give them the best childhood possible. Perhaps that would be harder for Caliber than for Orion… but he was no stranger to a challenge.

* * *

" _They've found us!"_

 _Explosions… the tunnels they'd been hiding in for the past few weeks shaking all around them… dirt and shards of rock falling onto his armor, making him scream…_

" _Get to the back exit! It's our only chance!"_

" _You go on ahead, sir! Skywarp and I'll hold them off!"_

" _You are NOT playing the hero! Not in your condition…"_

" _With all due respect, sir, get Caliber and run! We'll buy you some time!"_

 _His father's hands grabbing him, another scream bursting from his vocalizer as he was carried away… peering over his father's shoulder just in time to watch the blue Seeker that had sent them off reel back, a blast of plasma fire tearing through one wing… the black Seeker going down under the fists of a bright red Autobot with hatred blazing in his blue optics…_

"Caliber, wake up. Wake up!"

He jolted out of the nightmare, still screaming, thrashing against the hands on his chassis. They'd caught him, the Autobots had gotten TC and Warp and had now caught him, they were going to hurt him, hurt his father, maybe even make him disappear like they had Hook and Stormrunner…

"Caliber!"

His optics flared online, and he stared up at the masked face of Optimus, body heaving with frantic vents in an effort to cool systems overheated by terror. Every instinct screamed to squirm out of the mech's grip and run – he was Autobot, he was dangerous, he'd taken his father away and who knew what he had in store for him…

Then memory returned with a rush, and he sobbed and crumpled against the red mech's chest. It was the past… that desperate flight from the Autobots had happened long ago. He was with Optimus Prime now, whatever that entailed, and nothing could change that fact.

"Little one." Prime shifted, picking something up off the floor, and Caliber felt the familiar softness of Purple being pressed into his arms. "You're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

Caliber clutched the stuffed toy to his chest, tucking his face into its wings. The medic had said words to that effect… but somehow, when they came from Prime, he believed them. And despite everything his carrier had taught him about Autobots being the enemy, an evil to be fought at every opportunity, the Autobot leader was a comforting presence. Not as comforting as his father had been, but still a source of security.

And after months of fleeing the Autobot forces alongside his father, and the terror of what might happen to him in the hands of the enemy, he craved that security desperately.

"There now," Prime murmured, stroking Caliber's back as he finished crying himself out. "I've got you. I won't let anything hurt you."

Caliber wiped his face on Purple's wings and rested his helm against the windshield on Prime's chest. "Promise?"

"I promise." The words were soft, but heavy with conviction. "Rest now. I'll watch over you."

Caliber shuttered his optics, and the soft thrum of Prime's spark helped lull him back into a dreamless recharge.


	4. Building Blocks

" _Are you okay?"_

 _Shockwave had been reading a report from the construction fore-mech in Spiralis, but he twisted around in his chair to face the speaker, headfins flicking in surprise. He had assumed he was alone in his office - had someone broken in? If this was one of Soundwave's infernal cassettes, he would be having some stern words with the communications officer. His projects were too important to have those little pests interrupting him._

 _His headfins flicked again at the sight of the intruder - not a cassette, but a sparkling. The violet-and-silver femme cocked her head as she regarded him, oversized optics shining with curiosity, arms clutching a plush dragon toy. Spatters of paint flecked her lower arms, evidence of either an art project gone wrong or a prank gone right._

 _Shockwave's headfins stilled as annoyance replaced surprise. He knew Glory, of course - the purple sparkling was the offspring of two of his chemists, Piston and Windblade, and had come to his tower with her parents when he'd ordered his top scientists and engineers to gather and work on the plans for the Annihilator. He had assumed that any scientist under his command would be disciplined enough to keep their child on a tight leash, and even if Windblade had a reputation for being… unpredictable, her bondmate at least seemed capable of keeping a firm hand on her._

 _He'd been perfectly wrong, of course - the chemists meant well, but they were kept busy enough with their own projects that Glory virtually had free reign throughout the tower. And while she was smart enough to avoid messing with anything dangerous, she still stirred up her share of trouble. Sidewinder was still grumbling about walking into his workshop two decacycles ago to find his workbench covered in a thick layer of glitter._

" _How did you get into to my office?" he demanded. "The door should have been secured."_

" _It wasn't locked," she insisted._

 _Had he had a proper faceplate, he would have scowled at himself for the oversight. The spark carriage was interfering with his memory banks, causing minor but irritating corruptions in data. He was going to have to make his notes more thorough and program reminders for some of these small tasks that kept slipping his CPU._

" _Why are you here, Glory?"_

" _The door wasn't locked," she replied, as if that were all the explanation she needed. "Are you okay? You look tired. Is it the sparkling? Does it hurt having another spark in there?"_

 _Shockwave sighed and sent a quiet ping._ Chemist Piston, report to my office and retrieve your offspring.

Oh Pit, did she slip out again? _Piston replied in dismay._ I only turned my back a minute… be there right away. ETA two minutes.

" _Shockwave sir? Are you okay? You're zoning out. Dad does that sometimes when he's been up all night with a project. I thought you were supposed to be getting a lot of recharge, though."_

 _Shockwave's headfins flattened back as he resisted the urge to raise his voice at the sparkling. "That will be enough questions, Glory."_

" _I was just worried," she insisted. "Mom says sparklings are so rare! And this one's Lord Megatron's! I want them to be okay is all."_

 _Shockwave sighed again, but this time he let his headfins raise, his irritation subsiding a little. "I am getting adequate recharge for myself and the new spark," he assured her. "But a growing spark demands a great deal of energy."_

" _Oh… that's why you sit in your office all the time, huh? You're not just being lazy like Sidewinder and Bolt say."_

 _Well, no one could say this child wasn't brutally honest, he supposed. And she was correct - as his systems had diverted more energy toward the growth of the second spark in his chamber, he had been forced to reduce his workload, delegating more responsibility to his subordinates. Which was why he remained here in his tower rather than at the Annihilator's build site in Spiralis. It galled him that he would not be present to oversee its construction, especially as so many Decepticons held onto the hope that it would be the final step in ending the war for good._

 _But Megatron had trusted him with a far more important project. For while the Annihilator spelled the end of the war, the creation of Megatron's heir would ensure the Decepticons' future beyond the war. And though Shockwave had no experience as a parent, he considered it an honor to carry his leader's progeny._

" _Does it hurt?" Glory asked, cocking her head curiously._

" _There is some minor discomfort, but nothing serious," he told her. Even as he spoke, the newspark thumped against the wall of his chamber, and he rested his hand against the jut of his chest. The spark had become more active in the past few days… he would have to speak to the medic about it._

" _How's it gonna come out?"_

" _The spark surgeon will assist with that procedure."_

" _Oh… have you got a body built yet? Or are they gonna come out already in a body?" An expression of horror crossed her faceplate. "Are… are they gonna come out without a face?! Like their carrier?!"_

 _Shockwave was spared an indignant response by the timely arrival of Piston. The teal-and-gray tankformer gave the briefest of salutes before stooping down to collect his wayward offspring._

" _I'm so sorry, sir," he groaned, hefting Glory in his arms. "She's just way too curious about the sparkling. We'll keep a closer optic on her from here on out."_

" _See that you do," Shockwave replied. He could understand curiosity - new sparks created by spark-merge were so rare that of course a carrying mech would draw attention - but not when it disrupted his schedule. "And take a little more care in her biology lessons from this point forward. It seems she's under some misconceptions regarding sparks."_

" _Yes, sir." He hauled Glory away, and Shockwave caught an indignant shout of "I just wanna make sure they're born with a face!" just before the door closed behind them._

 _With the third sigh in less than five minutes, Shockwave returned his attention to the report. His crews were making excellent progress on the Annihilator. With any luck, they would be right on schedule for its first test run… and be able to wipe out the Autobots in the process._

 _In the meantime, he had another project on the table. He dismissed the report and called up the holo-blueprints for the sparkling's first chassis. Megatron's child deserved no less than perfection._

* * *

Elita hated to be one of _those_ parents, one who constantly hovered over their child as if afraid they would shatter if left alone for two astroseconds. And up until now, she felt she had done a good job of being a caring but not smothering parent. She loved Orion dearly, but felt that spoiling him or micromanaging his every move would only be harmful in the long run. And he seemed to be thriving without her venting down his neck struts every waking moment.

Now, however… now she found herself wanting to watch him like a cyberhawk. Or rather, to watch him and Caliber together. The situation had changed for all of them, and she had no idea how it was going to play out from this point forward.

Orion seemed oblivious to her attention as he busied himself in one corner of the playroom, building a lopsided but impressively-sized citadel out of interlocking blocks. While he enjoyed the company of other sparklings and got along well with the other Autobot children, he was perfectly capable of entertaining himself as well. He was a good-natured child, and Elita couldn't suppress a glow of pride in her spark at that.

A small form pressed against her leg, and she glanced down at Caliber. He huddled close to her, still clutching that stuffed griffon as if his life depended on it. His gaze moved from her to Orion, then back to her, his optics bright and questioning.

"Go on," she urged him, giving him her best comforting smile. "You can go play. Orion will share with you."

Caliber stared at her with a doubtful expression, one so serious and solemn she almost laughed. Then he drew up his shoulders as if steeling himself and entered the playroom. He gave Orion a long look, then retreated to a far corner of the playroom and huddled there, just watching the other sparkling build.

 _Well, that's a start,_ she thought. The sparklings had been introduced to each other, and both were given free reign of the playroom. Anything beyond that, they would have to initiate themselves.

Elita remained in the doorway a few minutes longer, her spark aching for Caliber. Despite her argument with Optimus last night, she didn't disagree with him on the issue of the sparkling. The son of Megatron he might be, but he was still an innocent child, one who had suffered in this war through no fault of his own. He needed a good, stable home… and the home of a high officer was among the safest and most stable at the moment. She still wished Prime had discussed this with her before surprising her at the door with another child in his arms, but that was the past now. They could only go forward from here.

 _The poor thing… he looks as if he's never been around another sparkling before._ That was entirely possible, she knew. New sparklings had been incredibly rare during the war, and sparklings created by spark-merging even rarer. She doubted Caliber had had any playmates before now. Not to mention a terrifying life on the run…

That, more than anything, made her spark churn with anger. If Megatron had known the war was a lost cause, why hadn't he arranged a safe home for Caliber before going on the run? Or surrendered to the Autobots for his son's sake in the first place? If he'd truly cared about his son, he wouldn't have dragged him to the edges of known space and put him through Primus-knew-what…

 _Stop it,_ she told herself. _If positions were reversed, you would have done the same thing. You and Optimus would have died before letting yourselves be separated from Orion._ Though that thought chilled her spark for another reason - had the war turned out differently, it might be Orion who would have fallen into Megatron's care, raised among Decepticons as the child of a despised Autobot leader.

Orion's voice broke into her thoughts, and she returned to herself to see her son had abandoned his blocks and approached Caliber. She watched, fans stilled, as Orion held his hand out to Caliber and spoke a gentle greeting.

* * *

"Hi."

Caliber stared at Orion's outstretched hand, then backed up a step as if it were a fiber-optic viper. Orion dropped the hand but kept a smile on his face, doing his best to look nice and friendly. If Caliber was going to be staying with them for awhile, he wanted them to start off on the right foot.

"I'm Orion," he tried. "What's your name?" He knew the answer already, but he figured asking him that would be a good ice-breaker.

Caliber backed up another step, until his back was pressed against the wall.

"It's okay," Orion told him. "I don't bite! Well… I did once. But that was 'cause Paddles bit me first. I got in trouble for biting back, but she never bit me again, so it worked."

The purple-and-silver sparkling made a soft noise in his throat, and Orion decided it must have been a laugh. From the corner of his optic he could see Mom pressing a hand to her forehead as if she had a CPU-ache, but he figured a giggle was at least progress.

"Do you talk?" he asked. "It's okay if you don't. Dad says some sparklings don't start talking for awhile. Maybe I can teach you."

Caliber tucked the lower half of his face behind his griffon toy's wings, but a few muffled words made their way out anyhow: "I can talk."

Okay, this was good. This was progress. He had to wonder just why Caliber was so anxious in the first place, but then reminded himself that Rhapsody had been just as terrified the first time he'd met her, and now they were friends. Then again, Zinc had done a lot to help draw her out of her shell too, so he couldn't claim all the credit there.

"Caliber." The silver sparkling lowered the griffon a little more so it no longer covered his face. "M' name's Caliber."

"Hi, Caliber." Orion's gaze fell on the plush toy. It looked a little ragged and dirty, but maybe Caliber hadn't had any other toys to play with before coming here and focused all his attention on this one. "That's a cool griffon. Can I see it?"

Caliber shook his head and squeezed it tighter. "It's mine… Daddy gave it to me…" His optics shimmered as if he were about to cry, and Orion quickly backpedaled.

"It's okay… it's okay. I'll look, not touch, okay?" He held his hands up to show he wasn't going to take the toy from him. "What's its name?"

Caliber sniffed loudly but seemed to be calming down already. "Purple."

"Hi Purple," Orion greeted, waving at the griffon toy.

Caliber gave another little laugh, then sniffed again and wiped his optics with one of Purple's wings. "Hi, Orion."

"Did you wanna play? I'm building a castle. Wanna help?"

Caliber gave the block castle a long look, as if weighing his desire to be left alone with his own feelings against his desire to play and have fun. "Okay."

Orion held his hand out, and Caliber hesitantly took it. Then Orion tugged the sparkling into the corner and showed him the pile of blocks. It took Caliber a minute to figure out just how the interlocking pieces fit together, but once he got the hang of it he pitched in to help complete a wall, face set in concentration as he carefully fitted the blocks together.

"Look at you two," Mom said from the playroom doorway, a warm smile on her face. "If only Optimus could see this… and the Council."

Orion didn't know what Mom meant by that - he was aware of the Council, but only as some kind of entity Dad had to report to every so often - but he figured she meant that the two of them playing together was something good. He shrugged and capped the castle off with a tall spire on its highest tower, then stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"Good job, you two," Mom told them, her smile widening.

Caliber gave a shy little smile in response - the first Orion had seen on him since he'd arrived.

"Now comes the fun part!" Orion announced, and he let out a roar and charged the block castle. He swung his arms, smashing the walls down and stomping the pieces beneath his feet, imitating the kaiju movies Grimlock had shown him.

"Orion, honestly!" Elita exclaimed.

Orion just grinned at her… but his grin faded when he looked at Caliber. The sparkling's face was blank with horror as he stared at the wreckage of the ruined castle.

"Hey…. you okay?"

Caliber whimpered and buried his face in Purple's cloth body.

"Oh… it's okay," Orion assured him. "We can build another… here, help me build another…"

The other sparkling shuddered, curling up and rocking back and forth, keening his distress.

"Oh Primus…" Elita rushed into the playroom and scooped Caliber up, murmuring softly to him and rocking him. "It's okay, little one… it's okay. It was just a toy. You're okay."

"What's wrong with him, Mama?" Orion asked, his tanks churning with worry. "Did I do something bad?"

Elita shook her head, rubbing Caliber's back. "You didn't know, sweetie." She sat down on the playroom floor, still holding him. "There were some bad attacks during the end of the war, and a lot of buildings got destroyed. He might have seen one collapse up close, or been in one when it fell down."

Orion flinched. He'd seen footage of some of those attacks, and that was frightening enough… but to actually see it up close or be part of it had to be terrifying. Poor Caliber… no wonder he'd freaked out.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"It's okay," Elita assured him. "You didn't know." She set Caliber down, patting his shoulder. "Will you be all right, little one?"

Caliber sniffed loudly and nodded. "Uh… uh-huh." He looked at Orion, and the shy smile returned, a little more hesitant but still there. "Build it again? But no breaking it?"

Orion nodded. "Okay… and we'll make it bigger this time." He took Caliber's hand and tugged him toward the mess of blocks, and his newfound playmate followed him.

* * *

Two guards moved to block Prime's path to the interrogation room, but upon laying optics on him they saluted and stepped back to their posts. He nodded acknowledgement and waved his ID before the scanner to open the door. The door screeched slightly along its tracks, and he winced and made a note to alert maintenance crews. This detention facility had lain empty for millennia during the war, and while it had been deemed strong enough to hold prisoners of war, there was still some work to be done to restore it to full functionality.

The interrogation chamber bore smooth concrete-gray walls, interrupted only by the gleaming spheres of security cameras on each wall. Its single table and two chairs were bolted to the floor to prevent an inmate from trying to use them as weapons against his guards or interrogators, and when the door shut behind him it fit neatly into place, rendering it nearly invisible to the unaugmented optic. It was meant to be escape-proof - though Prime hoped they wouldn't be testing that today.

"Hello again, Megatron," he greeted, nodding at the prisoner already cuffed to the opposite chair as he took his seat. "You're looking much better than when I saw you last."

"Spare me your babble, Optimus," Megatron demanded, optics flashing. "You came here for a reason. Get to the point."

Prime sighed. Megatron was going to make this as difficult as possible, he sensed. He had hoped that Caliber would at least give them some common ground, a reason to end personal hostilities between them. Perhaps there was still some hope of that, however.

Megatron was no longer the weak, half-dead mechanism they had captured nearly a week ago. His damages had been repaired, his chassis cleaned of grime, and his optics gleamed with energy as well as anger. He still bore plenty of scratches and dents, and a set of heavy cuffs bound his wrists, but he still managed to exude an aura of power and even a fierce dignity as he regarded Prime across the table. The two guards flanking him kept their optics locked on him, guns ready should he make a move against their leader, but Megatron acted as if they didn't even exist.

"Come to gloat, have you?" he sneered. "To rub my face into your precious Autobot victory? Or perhaps you're hoping that now that you have me in your grasp, I'll willingly hand over the location of our remaining troops? You're either more arrogant than I assumed you were, or more stupid."

Prime let him finish venting, hands folded on the table before him. The words coming from Megatron's vocalizer were angry but tired, lacking any real venom. Perhaps he felt he had to put on a show for the guards… or perhaps his pride just wouldn't let him show weakness to his old foe.

There was one way to test that. Once he felt Megatron had finished his rant, he motioned to the guards. "Leave us."

Springer's optics flashed. "Prime, sir, we're not leaving you alone with this monster."

"He's unarmed and restrained," Prime assured him. "I'm fully capable of looking after myself. I'll comm you when we're finished or if anything happens."

Springer and Strongarm shared a suspicious look, then turned and left, though not without Strongarm flashing Megatron a distrustful look.

As soon as the door shut behind them, something in Megatron's posture relaxed. His optics still burned with anger, but their furious light dimmed a little.

"I'm not here to pump you for information, Megatron," Prime assured him. "Nor am I here to gloat. I'm here about Caliber."

If Prime had held any doubts as to Megatron's true feelings towards his offspring, the sudden shift in the silver mech's expression killed them. Worry bled through the anger in his optics, and he leaned forward in his seat.

"How is he faring?"

"He's healthy," Prime assured him. "We have him on some fortified energon at the moment to keep his strength up. That flight of yours took a toll on him." He saw Megatron tense, taking insult at his decision to run with Caliber, and changed the subject. "He's quiet and nervous, but that's to be expected, I think."

Megatron nodded slowly. "Who is his caretaker?"

"Myself and Elita-1. We're raising him alongside our own son, Orion."

Silence as Megatron processed that statement. Then a bitter chuckle. "How ironic… and how true to your soft nature. Though I'm shocked your precious Autobot Council allowed it."

Something in Prime's optics must have betrayed him, for Megatron laughed again, more easily this time. "Ah… so you defied the Council to take him in. You have more gears than I ever gave you credit for."

Prime decided no good could come of telling Megatron what the Council had intended - if anything, it would be the fastest way to start a jailbreak and another Iacon massacre. "Who was Caliber's carrier? We have yet to find that information in the Kaon archives, and Starscream refused to tell us."

Megatron snorted. "So you've learned that Starscream is useful when he wants to be. Word of advice, Prime - don't trust him. He'll only aid you when he thinks it will suit his purposes."

"Duly noted," Prime replied. "Will you answer the question?"

Megatron nodded. "Shockwave carried him."

Prime winced. Shockwave was technically MIA in the wake of the war, but given that his tower had been utterly obliterated during the Autobots' final push to retake Cybertron, it was safe to presume he had been destroyed in the collapse. Had Caliber managed to survive that devastation, or had he already been in Megatron's care by the time the attack took place?

"Losing your conjux endura must have been difficult," Prime said softly. "Especially in the wake of the Spiralis Disaster and the Decepticons' fall."

"I thought you weren't here to gloat," Megatron retorted. "And there was no conjux, no bond. We merged sparks simply to ensure an heir to the Decepticon throne. Shockwave understood his place as the one to carry and raise my son, and neither expected nor requested anything more."

Prime winced again. He had assumed that there was some degree of love, or at least affection, between Caliber's parents. Shockwave might be a loyal officer and a willing carrier and caretaker, but apparently that was all there had been between him and Megatron.

"I will keep you updated on how Caliber is doing," he said at last.

Megatron's optics flickered in surprise. "And why would you do that? We're enemies, Optimus, even if this war is over."

"Just because we fought for so long doesn't mean we have to continue the animosity," Prime replied. "And Caliber may be in my care now… but he still deserves some sort of connection to his family. I won't deny him the right to know his origins - or you the right to know how he's doing."

Megatron's jaw clenched. He didn't say a word - even in prison, he still clung to some measure of pride - but the gratitude shone in his optics nonetheless.

Prime fired off a message, and the guards came to collect Megatron. He half-expected the warlord to put up a fight as he was taken away, but he walked off calmly, head erect, ignoring his escort. He couldn't help feeling a grudging sort of respect toward the mech - even in defeat, he wouldn't let his spirit be broken.

 _I meant what I said, though,_ he thought as he made his way out of the detention center. _I intend to keep him informed on Caliber's growth. And perhaps, at some point, we can arrange some sort of visits. Though I'm sure the Council will pitch fits if I suggest THAT…_

Commotion cut into his thoughts as he passed the prison infirmary, and though he knew he should just keep walking curiosity got the better of him. He slipped through the open doors and headed for the source of the ruckus - a berth holding a blue Seeker. Said Seeker was cuffed in place and looked like he'd rather be anywhere in the universe but here, while the medic on duty was engaged in an argument with a broad-shouldered, green-armored femme whom Prime recognized as the prison warden. Ironhide was trying to play mediator between the two, but seeing as his idea of breaking up the fight seemed to consist of yelling louder than the bickering parties, it wasn't helping in the slightest.

"What's going on here?" Prime demanded.

Ironhide's faceplates lit up with relief. "Thank Primus yer here! We got a situation on our hands!"

"I'd hardly call it a situation," the medic, Lifeflight, replied, glowering at Ironhide and the warden. "At least it WOULDN'T be a situation if Bastille here didn't insist on making it one."

The medic, Bastille, lifted his chin high, unrepentant. "A prisoner with spark is definitely a situation, Doctor."

Prime's gaze moved to the Seeker - Thundercracker, he realized. "Is this true?"

Thundercracker hesitated, then nodded. "It is."

"He collapsed in his cell this morning," Lifeflight explained. "The guards brought him to me to ensure it wasn't anything contagious. When I heard his symptoms, I suspected what was going on and did a spark scan. He's carrying, all right - and he's only a few months away from an emergence. We're lucky we caught it when we did."

Prime frowned as he did the calculations. "That means he must have been carrying before his capture. Why wasn't this caught earlier? I thought medical scans on incoming prisoners were mandatory."

"We caught 'im on New Proximus, Prime," Ironhide retorted. "R'member that big influx'a 'Con prisoners? Wasn't time to give every blasted one a checkup."

"Then I want all Decepticons who were captured on New Proximus scanned for health issues as soon as possible," Prime replied. "They may be prisoners, but they are still sentient beings, and deserve to be treated with respect. As for Thundercracker…" He looked down at the Seeker. "Do you want to keep this sparkling?"

Thundercracker's optics flashed. "What kind of a question is that? Of course I do… sir."

Prime nodded. "Then what is the issue?"

Bastille scowled. "This is a detention facility, not a daycare. What do you propose to do with the sparkling? Let him raise it in his cell? We should make arrangements to place the sparkling in a foundling home until suitable parents can be found."

Thundercracker bristled at that. "You are not taking my child from me!"

"You're not in much of a position to-" began Bastille.

"Enough!" Prime barked. "That will be quite enough. I'm not putting a child in an orphanage when they have parents perfectly willing and capable of raising them."

"And a prisoner is capable of raising a sparkling?" Bastille retorted.

Prime pondered that a moment, then recalled something he had uncovered in his search of the Decepticon records in Kaon. "Thundercracker, who is the sparkling's sire?"

Thundercracker scowled. "Why do you want to know?"

"Answer the Prime, 'Con," Bastille hissed… then flinched as Ironhide leveled a red-hot glare at her.

The blue Seeker held the scowl a moment longer before sighing in defeat. "Skywarp."

Prime nodded. "You have a sister, if I remember the records right. A chemist who worked closely with Shockwave. And if our information is correct, she's among a number of Decepticons who defected and went neutral shortly after the Spiralis Disaster. Do you know where she is now?"

Thundercracker was silent a moment, no doubt wondering just where Prime was going with all this. "Neutral colony on Beta Geode. Why?"

Prime nodded again, then turned to Bastille. "Once Thundercracker is cleared by Lifeflight to leave the infirmary, I want both him and Skywarp released into my custody."

Bastille sputtered while Ironhide and Thundercracker gaped at him. It was Ironhide who finally managed to speak: "The frag are ya up to, Prime?"

"The Autobots are not in the business of breaking up families. Thundercracker and Skywarp are rank-and-file soldiers, not high officers or notorious war criminals, and making them face a war trial is not a priority at the moment. The fact that they've created a child together only further seals their fate."

"What fate?" Thundercracker asked, voice calm but optics bright with worry.

"You and Skywarp will be placed in the custody of the neutral colony, under your sister's watch," Prime replied. "There should be adequate medical facilities there to build your child's first chassis and ensure a healthy emergence. We will be checking in on you every so often, though, so behave yourselves."

The blue Seeker stared up at him in disbelief before managing one word that said everything: "Why?"

"Because your child doesn't deserve to suffer from this war we've foisted on them," Prime replied, voice gentling as he spoke. "And because they will help decide the future of our kind… but only if we make sure they have that future." He rested a hand on Thundercracker's arm. "You're getting a second chance, Thundercracker. Don't squander it."

Thundercracker vented deeply, then nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Bastille glowered at Prime as Ironhide undid Thundercracker's cuffs and helped him to his feet. Prime ignored the warden, and gave the smiling Lifeflight a nod before leaving the infirmary. Whether Thundercracker and Skywarp's sparkling had been planned or an accident he wasn't sure, but it still gave him hope that after so many millennia of nothing but death and destruction, Cybertronians in general were finally feeling enough hope for the future to create children. Now if they could only ensure a better Cybertron for those new mechanisms to inherit...


	5. Meeting Zinc

_Megatron thought he had prepared himself for the day of his heir's emergence. He was completely wrong._

 _A sharp cry from the adjoining room made him stop his pacing of the medical center's waiting room, gaze jerking toward the doors. Anger flared in his chest, briefly drowning out the anxiety he'd never admit to feeling. He should be in there, witnessing the emergence of his child, the sparkling who would go on to inherit his throne. But the medic, a bulky blue roller named Uppercut, had quietly but firmly banned him from her operating theater._

" _This is an intensive and delicate procedure," she told him, her voice gentle but with a stubborn note. "It's one even warriors have a difficult time watching. I'll need to focus on extracting the spark, and anyone in there who isn't a nurse or a patient will only be a distraction. I'll send for you the instant we're through."_

 _Megatron almost admired the medic's steel, and her bolts in standing up to her commander in such a manner. Still, it galled him to be shut out of one of the most important moments of his life. And the noises coming out of the operating theater were not comforting in the least._

 _He resumed his pacing, snarling to himself in frustration. He hated this - hated having to sit back and let others do the hard work. He was a mech of action, and knowing that there was nothing he could do to further this step in the process of gaining an heir drove him insane._

 _Shockwave's voice rang through the doors again, unleashing a volley of curses he'd NEVER heard come out of the collected, logical mech's vocalizer before. Megatron winced despite himself, and it took all his willpower not to charge into the room at that moment. Uppercut had warned them both that this was an intense procedure, but Shockwave had insisted on staying online and alert for it so he could better observe and study the extraction process. From the sound of things, he was regretting that decision right now._

" _Easy now." Uppercut's voice drifted through the door, calm but firm. "Just hold still. We're almost done."_

 _Shockwave bellowed, suggesting Uppercut go do something anatomically possible._

" _Really, sir, you're being very childish about this." The medic's voice was stern, but with an undercurrent of amusement. "Unfortunately it's too late to put you under now, so just hold still and we'll be done in just a few moments."_

 _Under other circumstances, Megatron might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Now he just continued to pace like a restless predator, tensing at every shout and groan from the operating room, waiting for further news and hating every moment of it…_

 _It seemed an eternity later when the doors finally slid open, and the medic walked out with something bundled up in a thermal blanket in her arms. Megatron stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, schooling his features to hide his anxiety behind a mask of general impatience._

" _Finally," he growled. "What took so long?"_

 _Uppercut smiled, as if knowing the truth but electing not to say anything. "It was actually a very smooth and easy emergence - despite anything you might have heard." She nodded back into the operating theater. "There are reasons we put mechs under for this kind of thing… though Commander Shockwave will recover. He's recharging at the moment. In the meantime… say hello to your child."_

 _And before Megatron could make any move to protest, she placed the bundle in his arms._

 _Odd… he had never imagined a new sparkling would be so_ tiny. _He knew, logically, that a sparkling's first body shell was small to accommodate their smaller spark, but children created from spark-mergings were so rare that he'd forgotten just how small they were. He could have cupped his new offspring in both hands, and for a wild moment he wanted to hand the sparkling right back to Uppercut, terrified of damaging them by accident._

 _The sparkling shifted against his chest, then gave a tiny yawn and unshuttered their optics - pale amber bordering on gold, like their carrier's. Their gaze locked with their sire's, bright and curious._

 _Megatron's spark lurched in his chest. A strange heat filled his internals, an emotion he'd never felt before, had never thought he'd ever feel._ This is mine… my child, I created this…

" _I did their preliminary checkup," Uppercut told him. "They're healthy and strong. I'd like to give them a more thorough exam here soon, but until then I think it'll do both of you good to have some time together." And with a knowing nod she walked back into the operating room._

 _The sparkling gazed up at him a moment longer, then let out a quiet chirp, resting their tiny violet helm against their sire's spark chamber. Their optic shutters slid closed, and their venting evened out as they drifted into recharge._

 _Megatron shifted the little bundle in his arms, one powerful hand resting on the sparkling's back. His spark blazed so brightly he thought it would burn through his chestplate, bright with an emotion so strong it terrified him. He had expected to feel pride and triumph at seeing his heir for the first time… he hadn't expected to feel something so intense as this._

 _He hadn't expected to fall in love. His spark was lost at that moment, lost to the tiny being in his arms._

" _Caliber," he murmured, the name he had selected cycles ago rolling out of his vocalizer as he cradled the sparkling close. Uppercut would be back soon enough, and he'd be damned before he let her catch him so emotional over the sparkling. For now, he'd cling to this moment as long as it lasted._

* * *

The war had left scars on Cybertron that would take years to fully heal… but there were still many beautiful areas that had either been spared the brunt of the conflict or had been recently repaired. And the public park in the heart of Iacon was one of those areas - a stretch of land that had somehow escaped heavy damage, its statues and crystal gardens and playgrounds nearly untouched. It had lain empty for most of the war, but today couples and families strolled its walkways and admired its scenery, enjoying a beautiful day.

Prime paused before a small playground, inspecting it with a critical optic. "What about this one?"

Orion frowned and shook his head. "There's no slide. Want one with a slide!"

"The last one had a slide and you said no," Prime laughed.

"Paddles an' Soar were on the last one," he insisted.

"I thought you liked Paddles and Soar."

Orion made a face. "Not after they bit me."

Well, that was the danger of allowing Grimlock to raise sparklings, Prime supposed. The little ones adored their terrifying adoptive father and their Dinobot "uncles," but evidently they were picking up some bad habits from them. He trusted Grimlock to train them out of that kind of behavior, but perhaps he'd be open to a little parenting advice at some point.

"Caliber, what do you think? Do you like this playground?"

Caliber clung tightly to Prime's hand with one arm, the other still wrapped around his griffon toy. He stared at the playground, then looked at Orion and shrugged. Evidently he had no opinion on the matter… or perhaps, Prime thought sadly, he hadn't seen a playground before and had no idea what to make of the contraption before them.

"Orion… why don't you show Caliber the playground?" Prime suggested. "Teach him a few of your favorite games?"

"THEN can we go find one with a slide?" Orion pleaded.

Prime chuckled. "Yes, then we can find one with a slide."

Orion nodded and grabbed the violet sparkling's hand. "C'mon, Cal! Race you to the top!"

Caliber hesitated, then finally smiled and hurried after the magenta sparkling. Prime chuckled again and settled in on a nearby bench as he watched the two grab the bars of the playground's climbing set and start scrambling to the top. Despite everything he had been through, Caliber was still a child, playful and curious… and just a little competitive as well. What child couldn't resist a challenge, after all?

It had been a few weeks since that fateful battle - if it could really be called that - that had brought Caliber into his life. Prime had made good on his promise to give him a room of his own, cleaning out his office and moving a sparkling's berth in for him, and they had purchased toys for him instead of expecting him to share everything of Orion's. He was determined to treat both sparklings as equally as possible, and to his relief Elita agreed with him. Playing favorites, she felt, would only breed resentment further down the road.

It hadn't been easy, and Prime doubted it would get much easier for awhile yet. Caliber was still painfully shy and withdrawn, often slipping away by himself for hours at a time to hide in some nook or cubbyhole. He didn't speak much, though he readily joined Orion in his play much of the time, and though he clung fiercely to Prime whenever he was around, he had yet to warm up much to Elita. He didn't seem to dislike or fear her - rather, he seemed curiously detached from her, accepting her as a presence in his life but not going out of his way to approach her.

 _I know it hurts Elita that he's so aloof around her,_ he thought, frowning as he watched the two sparklings climb. _But I think he'll come around. I hope so, at any rate. Perhaps he's just not used to femmes. Or perhaps it's something in how he was raised…_

"Whassa matter, ain't got time to say hello to an ol' friend now that yer a dad?"

Prime whirled… and felt a smile chase away his fretful thoughts. "Ironhide! Fancy seeing you here."

Ironhide laughed and thumped his shoulder good-naturedly before sitting down beside him. "So ya finally got a day off, eh? Thought th' Council was gonna run ya ragged."

"There's still a great deal to do in order to restore Cybertron," Prime reminded him. "This war of ours took a terrible toll on the planet. But even the Prime gets the occasional break to spend with his family."

"However unorthodox that family might be," Chromia added, standing behind the bench and leaning forward to rest her arms against it. "How's Orion taking having another sparkling around?"

"Very well, actually. I've been quite impressed - he's been very welcoming toward Caliber, and they get along nicely."

Ironhide snorted. "Wouldn't've 'xpected Megs' spawn t' play nice with anyone, let alone your kid."

It was a casual statement, meant more to be humorous than anything else, but it still stung Prime to hear it. "Caliber may be the son of Megatron, but that doesn't make him his clone. He is his own being, and I'm confident that his parentage will not define what sort of mech he becomes."

"Still, he carries Megatron's programming," Chromia pointed out. "I know coding doesn't always determine your nature, but doesn't that worry you at all?"

"In all honesty," Prime replied softly, "I'm more worried that his ties to Megatron will affect him in other ways. That mechs will be cruel to him simply because he was sparked from a Decepticon commander. He has no control over that, and I don't want him to suffer for his father's crimes."

"Th' ol' Slagmaker wrecked Cybertron an' near-wrecked Earth an' countless other worlds," Ironhide pointed out. "Ya can't expect mechs to just forget that overnight."

"No," Prime acknowledged. "But I can expect them to not hold a _child_ responsible for the sins of his father."

Ironhide opened his mouth to retort, but a firm glower from Chromia stilled his vocalizer. He opted instead for a safer comment. "Th' kid givin' you any problems? Seemed pretty quiet when we scooped him offa that planet. That changed at all?"

Prime shook his head. "He's very shy, and prefers to be alone. I'm not sure if that's his natural personality or if it's simply a result of being on the run with his father for so long. And he has nightmares… bad enough to wake up screaming in the night."

Chromia winced. "Poor thing! What sort of nightmares?"

"He doesn't like to talk about them. But he calls out names sometimes. I… I have to wonder what sort of battles or catastrophes he's witnessed. The destruction of Shockwave's tower, perhaps, or even the Spiralis Disaster."

Even Ironhide flinched at that thought. "Wouldn't blame him for nightmares if he did. Slag, the Spiralis D'saster was bad 'nough to give even the DJD nightmares…"

A high-pitched giggle broke into their conversation, and a new sparkling darted toward the playground - a bright yellow femme with orange highlights and a crested helm. Prime recognized her, and he shot Ironhide a glance… and had to grin at the expression of delight that crossed the old warrior's face.

"Zinc, play nice with th' boys, a'right?" he called out.

"Yes, Daddy!" she called back.

Chromia rolled her optics. "You do realize that the moment she thinks we're not watching her, she's going to start bossing those boys around like she holds the Matrix, right?"

Ironhide flashed her a grin. "R'minds me of a certain other femme I know."

"Who… oh, you clunker!" She slapped his shoulder as he cackled madly at his own jab.

Prime laughed a little as well before turning back to watch the sparklings play. It had been far too long since Autobots could simply relax and enjoy a day out like this. The price they had paid for this peace was incredibly high, and he feared the repercussions of their war would be felt for generations to come… but they were making progress in healing their planet and their kind, and every step in the right direction, no matter how small, was encouraging.

 _I just hope we can create a world fit for our sparklings to inherit in our stead. Especially the ones who can't help who their creators are - not just Caliber, but Thundercracker and Skywarp's child, and any other Decepticon-sparked children there may be. They don't deserve to suffer from this war we forced upon them._

* * *

"I win!" Orion crowed, pulling himself to the very top of the climbing set. "C'mon, Cal, you're almost there!"

Caliber tried to quicken his pace, but it was hard to climb any faster when he was still clutching Purple tightly in one arm. He almost slipped once, caught himself just in time, and went back to climbing slowly and carefully, setting his hand and feet with care each time. Now that Orion had won the "race," he didn't feel the need to hurry as fast.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the new nickname Orion had bestowed on him. Both his father and his carrier had called him by his full name, and Prime and Elita continued to do so in his new home. Being called by a short version of his name was new, and he hadn't decided how he liked it yet. Maybe he would get used to it at some point… though there was so much to get used to in this new, strange life of his…

"Hi up there!"

He yelped, spooked by the shout, and almost slipped off the bar he'd just climbed onto. He managed to grab it with both hands and stay his fall, but lost his grip on Purple in the process. The griffon tumbled to the ground, coming to rest at the feet of a yellow sparkling he didn't recognize.

"Well, you didn't have to throw stuff at me," she laughed, and bent down to pick the plushie up. "What's this?"

Something in his internals clenched. "That's mine." He tried to shout the words, but they came out a quiet whimper.

"Why's it so dirty?" she asked as if he hadn't even spoken, thwacking it against her leg to knock off some of the dust. "Don't you ever wash it?"

His tanks twisted as he watched her manhandle the toy. Didn't she know it wasn't hers? That it was something special to him? He wanted to scream, to drop down to the ground and yank Purple out of her hands, but somehow he couldn't seem to get his limbs to work. The thought of confronting the yellow sparkling terrified him even as her holding his plushie angered him…

"Leave him alone, Zinc!"

The yellow sparkling looked up, optics flashing. "Orion! Who's your friend? Why's he so quiet? Doesn't he talk? Does his voice work?"

Orion scrambled down and grabbed the plushie from Zinc. "His name's Caliber. He's just quiet, okay? And that's his. Don't take things that aren't yours!"

A burst of laughter made Caliber glance toward the adults, and he wondered just what Prime and the others found so funny about all this. There wasn't anything mean or malicious in their laughter, but it still puzzled him.

"I was just looking," Zinc huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "And it's old and dirty. What's so special about it?"

Orion ignored her and turned to Caliber, holding the griffon up to him. "I got it! Here you go."

Caliber climbed down and snatched Purple out of his hands, hugging the toy close. Zinc looked at him strangely, but he didn't care what she thought at the moment. Purple was his last link to his life before coming to live with Prime, and he wasn't about to give that up for anything.

"Hey Cal, this is Zinc," Orion told him. "She's a friend."

Caliber hugged Purple tightly to his chest. "H… hi, Zinc."

"Hi, Cal." She held out her hand, optics softening a little. "Sorry I grabbed your toy. Wanna play?"

He stared at her offered hand, startled at this sudden turn in her personality. How could this femme be so loud and obnoxious one moment but nice the next? Was this a trick of some kind? Was she going to be pleasant until he dropped his guard and then make another grab for Purple?

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Don't you wanna play? Are you scared?"

He took a step back, turning to face Orion. Somehow, he felt he could trust the other sparkling's judgment. After all, he knew Zinc better than Caliber did.

"It's all right, Zinc's nice!" Orion assured him. He lowered his voice. "She's a little bossy, but she's still cool."

"I HEARD THAT!" Zinc shrieked, but she grinned wide despite the tone of her voice. "I'M NOT BOSSY!"

"You are so!" Orion retorted with a laugh.

"Am not," Zinc huffed. "I don't boss, I just tell you guys the right way to do things."

Orion and Caliber exchanged a look at that… and promptly burst into giggles, much to Orion's shock. He hadn't laughed this long and hard in… well, since before he and his father had gone on the run. It felt strange, laughing again, but strangely good, like releasing something that had built up in his systems.

"Okay, we'll play," Orion told her. "Right, Cal?"

"Right," Caliber replied.

"All right!" Zinc whooped. "We're playin' tag! Cal, you're it!" And she took off at a run.

Orion flashed Caliber a _what did I tell you_ look before charging off, giggling wildly. Caliber tucked Purple under one arm and bolted after him, still laughing.

* * *

"Whatever the three of you did today, I'm almost grateful for it," Elita laughed, tucking the thermal blanket around a sleeping Orion. "For once he was too tired to fuss about bath time. Usually it's a struggle to get him into the washracks."

"They tuckered themselves out in the park today," Prime said softly, picking up a stuffed turbofox and placing it back in the sparkling's berth. "Zinc as well. Or at least I assume so with Zinc - it seems that little one is so full of fire and lightning nothing can exhaust her."

"Given who she's sparked from, I'm not surprised," Elita noted. "Perhaps I should arrange more playdates with the other sparklings for these two. Being around other children will be good for both of them. Especially Caliber - so few Decepticons actually spark children as opposed to forging that I'd be surprised if he's ever been around other sparklings."

Prime nodded, and he took Elita's arm and led him out of the sparkling's bedroom. "It will do him well to get accustomed. That way he'll be better prepared once it's time for him to start school."

She frowned. "Do you really think it's a good idea for him to attend an Autobot school? Given how everyone feels about who created him? Perhaps it'd be safest to homeschool him."

"It would only be harmful for him in the long run," Prime replied. "I feel it will be healthier for him to experience as normal a childhood as possible. And we can't keep him away from other mechs forever."

"I know… but I can't help but worry. I want to believe no Autobot is going to actively teach their child hatred and prejudice, but I know sparklings will pick up on that kind of thing no matter what we do." She sighed softly. "Well… at least we have a few orbital cycles before we have to worry about that."

"Indeed… and in the meantime, we can introduce him to other sparklings. Rhapsody, Paddles, Soar, Alpine…"

"Alpine just barely emerged," Elita laughed. "Hound and Mirage haven't even left the medical center with him yet!"

"He may be a bit young for a playdate, but not too young for an introduction," Prime chuckled. "And it will do Caliber good to see more sparklings of any age. Speaking of him… we'd better make sure he's settled in for the night as well."

"He was asleep when I tucked him in, but we can check once more."

Elita went to open the door to Caliber's room, while Prime lingered to give Orion one more pat on the helm. Their son had been remarkably patient and understanding through this whole thing, and it had warmed his spark to see him come to Caliber's defense today. Though Zinc, while a little overbearing, had ultimately meant well… he only hoped Orion could behave as admirably should they run into an Autobot less well-intentioned…

Elita's voice over his comm cut into his thoughts. _Optimus… do you have your gun on you?_

Prime froze at her tone - soft, calm, but with an undercurrent of fear that chilled him. "No… what's wrong?" he asked, keeping his own voice soft as possible.

 _Go get it. Don't make any sudden noises or moves._

Ice slid down Prime's spinal strut at that. He moved as quickly and smoothly as he could, ducking into his quarters and drawing a pistol from the lockbox. His CPU whirled with nervous energy, racking itself over what might be menacing Caliber - an Autobot assassin, a Decepticon abductor, some family member of one of Megatron's victims wanting revenge, Megatron himself broken out of prison and wanting his son back...

Caliber was still in his berth, curled up beneath the blanket with only the top of his helm and a single paw of his griffon plush poking out. His soft venting filled the room, deceptively peaceful, as Prime slowly entered, pistol raised. He wasn't alone in the berth, however - a dark form lay curled around him atop the blanket, the telltale gleam of scarlet optics confirming one of Prime's fears.

 _Ravage._ Prime felt every joint and servo in his body tense, ready to pounce the moment the cassette-panther moved. Soundwave had been captured mere weeks before Megatron had surrendered, and had been locked in the most secure cell they possessed… but evidently not all of his cassettes had been captured with him.

 _Elita,_ he radioed, not wanting to awaken Caliber or alert the cassette, _alert security._

 _I tried that,_ she replied. _Communications out of the apartment are jammed._

 _Then go to Ironhide and Chromia and tell them what's going on. I don't dare shoot him so close to Caliber, but I'll try to keep him from escaping._

She nodded and ducked out.

Prime stepped closer to the berth, hand raised to make a grab - either for Ravage to subdue him or for Caliber to pull him to safety. But before he could move a deep, rumbling voice infiltrated his radio - Ravage's.

 _You can put that down. I'm not here to take or hurt him._

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Prime demanded, barely able to keep from raising his voice in anger. "You're either very brave or very stupid, Ravage. Did you think you could get away with this?"

The cat raised his head to regard Prime… and he hesitated. He'd seen that dimness to the optics before - the flickering glow that marked a mech low on energy. Ravage wasn't in as bad of shape as Megatron had been when they'd found him, but he was clearly suffering.

 _I'm not here to fight,_ he growled. _I'm just here to check on him._

Prime frowned. "And reporting back to whom about it?"

 _The Autobot Council._ Ravage curled his lip in a silent snarl of contempt. _Who do you think? Soundwave may be in prison, but he still wishes to check on Caliber's condition._

"On Megatron's heir?" If the Decepticons were hoping to resurrect their empire by abducting Caliber and grooming him to take the throne…

 _On Caliber,_ Ravage repeated. _Soundwave may not have carried him, but he concerned himself with the child's welfare. We all did. And he wanted to be sure he was being cared for and not mistreated. Despite what you Autobots like to think, we aren't sparkless._

Despite the gravity of the situation, Prime actually chuckled at that. "Ravage, I am the last mech to believe you Decepticons are sparkless." He slowly lowered the weapon. "How many of you managed to escape capture?"

 _At the moment, just myself and Frenzy. Though I doubt the others can be held for long._

"And you mean Caliber no harm?"

Ravage shook his head. _We intend to check on him. To be sure he's being treated well. Nothing further._

Prime knew that the smartest thing to do was to grab the cassette and hold him until Ironhide got there to help subdue him. This was a rogue Decepticon, one of Soundwave's most notorious minions, and even if he meant Caliber no harm he was still very dangerous.

He nodded to himself, making a decision… and subspaced his weapon. "Make sure no one catches you. I will do my best to convince Elita you're harmless, but I can make no promises for anyone else."

Ravage rose to his feet and stretched, then padded toward the window. _Understood. I'm good at keeping unseen._ He leaped lightly to the windowsill.

"And Ravage?"

The cat turned to gaze at him over his shoulder.

"There's a storage facility five blocks from here that rarely gets patrolled. There are plenty of places there where you and Frenzy can hole up and rest."

Ravage regarded him a long moment, then flicked his audial receptors and leaped out of the hole he'd carved in the glass, vanishing into the night.

Prime blew a sigh from his vents and went to the berth, making sure Caliber was safe and asleep before tucking him back in. The Autobot Council, if they ever learned what he'd done, would probably short out in fury and insist he'd been far too soft on the cassette. But he believed Ravage when he insisted that he was only keeping tabs on the sparkling… and perhaps, if he assured his master that Caliber was safe and in good hands, they could keep one of the most dangerous and infamous Decepticons from performing a jailbreak for the sparkling's sake.

He sighed again as the apartment door burst open, and hurried out of the room. He wasn't looking forward to having to talk down Ironhide and explain to Elita what had just happened… but no one ever said that caring for the son of a Decepticon war criminal was going to be easy.


	6. Emergence

" _Patient's offline, sir," First Aid reported, looking up from the diagnostic display. "We're ready."_

" _Ready as we'll ever be for this, at least," Ratchet muttered. "Swoop, how're the spark readings?"_

" _Steady and strong," the Dinobot replied. "See no flu… fluctu… no changes."_

 _Ratchet nodded, ignoring the verbal stumble. Swoop's speech had improved remarkably since he'd taken the young flier on as an apprentice, but he still hesitated over longer words from time to time. Other Autobots might have raised a fuss, but in Ratchet's opinion it was better to simply let minor mistakes in language slide than to point them out. Besides, in a medical situation, trying to correct his student's grammar wasn't exactly a priority._

" _Keep monitoring the spark readings," Ratchet ordered. "First Aid, stand by. I don't anticipate Elita coming online during the procedure, but it's been known to happen, and we want to be ready for anything at this point."_

" _Y-y-yes sir." First Aid's vocal tremor wasn't from still trying to grasp big words, but from sheer nervousness. The Protectobot was terrified of this procedure, and though he tried valiantly to hide it his anxiety bled through his mask and glowing visor._

 _Ratchet could hardly blame the kid, really. Spark extractions - or emergences, if one wanted to use the softer, more modern term - were one of the most invasive procedures out there, and just watching them was enough to scare some medics away from spark work for good. Which was completely understandable - even he, who had seen any number of disturbing and gruesome injuries on the battlefield, was unsettled at the thought of handling the very source of another Cybertronian's life._

 _He'd have to keep a close optic on First Aid to ensure his nervousness didn't make him slip up. Though it could also have the opposite effect, he decided - prompting him to take extra care to not make a mistake during this delicate procedure. Swoop, on the other hand, was eager to witness and help with the extraction, and seemed completely confident that he could handle it. He'd bear a close watch as well, for overconfidence could be just as hazardous as anxiety if it led to dangerous errors._

" _First Aid, open the chest panels."_

 _The Protectobot hesitated, then reached forward and unclasped Elita's chest armor. He pulled the panels aside to reveal the spark chamber, a translucent sphere that glowed a soft blue-white with the energies within. First Aid gasped in wonder, and even Swoop cooed softly in awe._

 _Ratchet, for his part, took a moment to absorb the sight before moving on. He'd seen sparks before, of course - he'd faced any number of open chassis in his line of work. But it was one thing to look objectively at a spark chamber as you struggled to seal off leaking lines or torn wiring, quite another to view the very seat of life itself in a non-emergency setting. Seeing it like this, calm and at rest, never ceased to amaze him._

 _Elita's spark glowed strongly within its chamber, brighter than any he'd viewed in a long time. That brightness wasn't just a quirk of the spark - though if any Autobot warrior had an exceptionally bright spark, he knew it would be her. This spark chamber didn't just contain Elita's life, but the life of her and Optimus Prime's child, shining and pulsing alongside their carrier's with a light so bright it almost hurt to look at it._

 _But Elita's chamber wouldn't hold two sparks for much longer. And the sparkling was now strong enough to support a frame of their own, albeit the much smaller frame of a newbuilt. It was time for emergence._

 _Ratchet sucked in a deep vent of air, then nodded and reached for his tools. No more gawking. He had a job to do, and just sitting and staring at the two sparks wasn't going to finish it. Prime and Elita had trusted him with a huge responsibility, and he'd be fragged if he botched it up by gaping like a newbuilt._

" _Swoop, how are the readouts?"_

" _Stable," he replied. "No changes. All's good."_

" _First Aid, get the extractor ready." He opened the chamber and gently reached inside with a manipulator to ease the spark to one side. He wanted a better idea of just how carrier and child's sparks were situated before he moved on. Better to know what the frag you were doing than to dive in blind, he figured._

" _Oh Primus," First Aid gulped, but he didn't tear his gaze away._

" _If it makes you queasy, go outside and sit down," Ratchet ordered, a little more testily than he intended. "You're no good here if you're going to freak out or purge on the floor."_

" _I'm fine, I'm fine," First Aid insisted. "Just… just a little weird watching a spark get moved around, is all."_

 _Swoop gave a little snort but said nothing. Normally the Dinobot and Protectobot got along well, but Ratchet couldn't shake the feeling that Swoop was feeling superior at the moment for staying cool under pressure better than his fellow apprentice. He'd have to have a talk with the flier after this was all said and done - he wanted cooperation between his students, not rivalry._

 _The second spark wasn't hard to find - it budded from the side of Elita's spark, awkwardly wedged between the side of the chamber and the carrier's life force. Small wonder Elita had been so uncomfortable in the last few weeks of her carriage - the little spark had been incredibly active, pulsing and flickering, and the pressure it put on its carrier had to be painful. She'd handled it with good grace, at least, aside from frequent comments that Prime was definitely carrying the next one._

" _There you are," he murmured. "Just hold tight, little one… this'll be over in an astrosecond." He shifted Elita's spark a little more to give him room to work, then reached for his laser scalpel._

" _Wait… what's that for?" Swoop demanded, looking up from the monitors to stare at the tool in his mentor's hand._

" _The sparks are separate, but still connected," Ratchet replied. "We have to detach them before we can extract the sparkling. You know this, Swoop."_

" _Yes, but… d-didn't know it'd mean cutting!" He backpedaled a step, as if afraid Ratchet would come after his own spark with the instrument._

" _Fraggit, you two, get yourselves together!" Ratchet snapped. "I need your help with this, not for you to freak out like a couple of-"_

" _Sir, Elita's in distress!" First Aid barked as one of the monitors shrieked an alarm. "She's going to come online any second if we don't do this quick!"_

 _Ratchet swore and hunched over the open chassis. "Increase the morphite drip by a third. Keep a close watch on her signs. Alert me the INSTANT it looks like she's going to wake up! Swoop, keep an optic on those vitals!"_

" _Yes sir!" First Aid replied, the nervous tremor gone from his voice._

 _Ratchet gripped the scalpel, doing his best to shut out the strident beeping of the monitors. There was a reason so few medics actually worked with sparks, even for an emergence - it was extremely delicate work, and the sparks themselves were so sensitive that they interpreted almost any touch or handling as distress and responded accordingly. It wasn't uncommon for a mech to suddenly come online during a spark surgery, and even routine procedures such as extractions could become rapidly complicated as a spark reacted to the touch of a scalpel or other tool._

 _Elita's spark flickered, but held strong. Ratchet studied both it and the smaller spark for a long moment before finally identifying the point where both sparks were connected - a seam of brighter blue energy, binding carrier and child as the smaller spark drew on the energy it needed to form itself._

 _He braced himself… and cut._

 _Elita's spark flashed, and the chassis beneath him jerked in response. He cursed and pulled the scalpel away to avoid accidental damage, ready to pin her down if need be. But after that initial lurch, she went still, her spark pulse evening out. That had gone better than he'd hoped…_

 _He forced himself not to start in surprise as a loud crash rang through the operating room. "First Aid!"_

" _Sir… Swoop just passed out," the Protectobot replied, his tone wavering between concern and amusement. "Should I help him?"_

" _Step around him for now," Ratchet ordered. "He'll be fine. Get me the extractor. We've got the sparks separated, we just need to remove the sparkling and transfer them."_

 _First Aid nodded and handed over the extractor - a transparent canister with a clawlike mechanism at one end. Ratchet took it and positioned it over the smaller spark, working carefully but as quickly as possible. Now that the sparkling was cut off from their carrier's spark, they were working under a strict time limit. A spark could only be disconnected from a power source for so long before it faded out, so they had to make the transfer as quickly as possible._

 _The newspark resisted the pull of the extractor for a pump-stopping moment, filling the air with the crackle of energy and the smell of ozone… but finally it poured into the canister as if it had suddenly become liquid. Ratchet stepped away from Elita and made for the second berth in the operating theater, leaving First Aid to close her up. So far, so good…_

 _A tiny chassis lay on the second berth, its chest panels wide open to receive the waiting spark. He positioned the extractor over the spark chamber, flicked a switch…_

 _The newbuilt's optics flared online as the newspark settled into its chamber, and a high, thin cry filled the operating room. Ratchet set the extractor aside and closed up the sparkling's chest, then performed a quick but thorough examination. The spark pulsed strongly, without guttering or flickering, and all systems were operating normally and smoothly. By all appearances, a successful emergence._

" _How's the patient?" he asked._

" _Elita's doing just fine," First Aid replied. "Her spark readings have settled down, and she's peacefully offline. Should I bring her online now?"_

" _Let her rest," Ratchet replied. "She'll come online on her own in an hour or so." He scooped the sparkling up in his hands, cradling the little one against his chest. They continued to wail, as if unhappy with this new world they found themselves in and insistent that everyone in audial-shot know it._

" _Primus," First Aid murmured, his voice soft and wondering. "Look at them… they're adorable."_

 _Ratchet couldn't help but smile as he looked down at the sparkling in his arms. This wasn't his child, of course, but holding them close still made his own spark brighten in response. It had been far too long since he'd helped bring new life online, since he'd been able to witness or aid in an emergence. This new Autobot wasn't just the child of a Prime - they were a symbol of new hope for Cybertron, the beginning of a new era._

" _Swoop's going to be disappointed that he missed this," First Aid noted._

" _He'll get over it," Ratchet replied, stepping around the Dinobot's prone form. "Stay here with Elita and Swoop. Alert me as soon as one or the other of them comes online. I'm going to take this little one to meet their father before Prime wears a rut in the floor of the waiting room."_

" _Yes sir."_

 _The sparkling's cries finally tapered off, and their optics fixed on the door of the operating room. It was as if they could sense their father waiting for them out there, and were already eager to meet him. Ratchet wrapped the little one in a thermal blanket and carried him out to the waiting room… ready to unite a family._

* * *

"He's beautiful," Prime murmured, looking down at the sparkling in his hands. "So small, though… is that normal?"

Ratchet snorted. "He's the same size as Orion was that first day. Maybe a little bigger. We just forget how tiny they start out."

Hound chuckled and leaned back in his berth, his optics dim with lingering exhaustion but his smile bright. "I hope to Primus I don't forget that first day. It was the best of my life so far. Well, short of my conjux ritus, I suppose…"

"I should hope so," Mirage remarked, but despite his snippy tone his optics gleamed with delight as Prime handed the teal-and-white sparkling back to him. "I can't believe this… Hound, we're finally holding our sparkling…"

Hound chuckled again. "We've been holding him for the past week, Mirage."

"I know… but it still amazes me every time I hold him. That he's here… that we're here. A family."

Prime smiled behind his mask as Mirage cradled Alpine in his arms. It was rare to see the former spy this happy over much of anything, and it warmed his spark to see him smile in delight at the newbuit Alpine. He'd been an attentive sire, fussing over Hound during the entire carriage, and despite the teasings and misgivings of certain Autobots, Prime believed he'd be a good father as well.

He was glad to see Hound doing well, too, especially after all he'd been through recently. Alpine's emergence had been more complicated than anticipated, the newspark threatening to sputter out every time Ratchet tried to separate it from Hound's. The sparkling was just fine now, thank Primus, but Hound was still recovering as a result of the prolonged emergence, and Ratchet wasn't going to let the scout out of his care until he was sure he'd come out of it unscathed.

Mirage hadn't left his conjux's side throughout the entire ordeal, even insisting on being present for the extraction itself. Most medics didn't permit that - and Ratchet had even threatened to bring Grimlock in to chase the spy out - but Mirage had stood firm. And while he'd come out of the operating theater looking as if he'd witnessed a war crime, he hadn't complained.

"I'm going to keep Hound and Alpine one more night for observation," Ratchet explained. "Their energy levels are looking good, but at this point I'd rather be safe than sorry. Mirage, you're welcome to go home and rest - you look like you got dragged behind the Stunticons."

Mirage shook his head. "I will stay. My conjux and my child need me."

"Aw, 'Raj, don't wear yourself down on my account," Hound told him, though Prime thought he looked quietly grateful that the spy was staying by his side.

"I will stay," Mirage insisted. "We go home together, as a family."

Prime smiled, soaking in the moment… then scowled as someone quite predictably butted in to destroy said moment.

"Wow, Mirage, you're _really_ dedicated to putting on this act. I'm almost impressed."

Ratchet growled softly and picked up a wrench, hefting it in his hand as if judging how well it would serve him as a thrown weapon. "Get the frag into your own repair berth, Cliffjumper, before I weld you there."

"You're the one insisting some exercise'll do me good instead of sitting on my aft playin' video games!" Cliffjumper retorted, strutting up to Hound's berth with a smug expression that even Prime wanted to slap off of his faceplate. "Plus I'm bored, and things seem entertaining over here."

Mirage glared at the minibot and hugged Alpine to his chest. "Leave, Cliffjumper. Hound has been through enough without being subjected to your verbal abuse."

Cliffjumper snorted. "Still pretending you care, do you? Come off it, 'Raj - we all know you merged with Hound and sparked a kid just to have a status symbol to crow about. It'd be just like you to flaunt how much better you are than the rest of us by following in Prime's footsteps like that."

"Cliffjumper!" Prime snapped. "That's enough out of you!"

"It's the truth!" Cliffjumper insisted, unrepentant.

If looks could kill, the glower Mirage offered the minibot at that moment would have reduced him to a pile of smoking shrapnel. Prime didn't blame him for the sentiment - he knew Cliffjumper had long disliked the former noble-mech, and had always been quick to accuse him of treachery in the past. But he had hoped that the end of the war would make Cliffjumper back off to some degree, or at the very least find something else to occupy his time. Evidently he'd been wrong.

And sadly, Cliffjumper's accusation had some precedence. There were indeed mechs who were creating new sparklings not out of any desire to truly start a family, but simply as a means to increase their prestige. Prime did his best to actively discourage this line of thinking, but it happened regardless… though he was certain Mirage was not among those mechs, and Cliffjumper was being foolish in continuing to accuse him.

"You have exactly five seconds to get your aft back to your berth and wait for me to get there and pop the dents out of your chassis," Ratchet snapped. "If you're not there by then, so help me I'll drop-kick you in that direction!"

Cliffjumper snorted. "Like you'd really do it."

Prime had opened his mouth to issue a stern order of his own… but a noise from the sparkling cut him off. Alpine squirmed in his sire's arms, squealing softly, and Mirage turned his attention to the sparkling, pointedly ignoring the intruder.

"It's all right, little one," he murmured, rocking Alpine gently. "Your parents are here. Sshhhh, we've got you, you're safe…"

"Is he okay?" Hound asked, sitting up a little in his berth.

"He doesn't sound distressed," Ratchet noted, frowning. "More curious than anything…"

Cliffjumper had been edging closer to Mirage and the sparkling all this time - probably more curious about the little one than he wanted to admit - and he let out a squeal of his own as Alpine reached out and grabbed onto one of his horns. The sparkling let out a high-pitched giggle, latching onto the projection with a surprising amount of strength for his age.

"Leggo!" Cliffjumper snapped, but to Prime's amusement he made no move to pull away.

Ratchet burst out laughing and set the wrench down. "Well, Cliff, seems the kid likes you. I question his judgement, but still…"

"Oh, shut up," Cliffjumper muttered, and he reached up to push Alpine's hand away from his helm. The sparkling released his horn, but then grabbed his finger instead, pulling it toward him and latching onto it with his mouth.

Hound laughed and lowered himself back onto the berth. "Looks like our little one's found himself an honorary uncle."

Mirage scowled. "You can't be serious."

"I don't wanna be…" began Cliffjumper, but his voice trailed off as he locked optics with Alpine. The sparkling stared back at him, then gave a soft chirp and wrapped his arms around the minibot's hand, hugging it as if it were a stuffed toy.

"...okay, fine," Cliffjumper muttered. "He is kinda cute. For being Mirage's kid." And a smile fought its way across his faceplate.

Prime finally relaxed, and he nodded at Hound. "You let me know if you need anything, all right? And good luck to both of you."

"We're going to need all we can get," Mirage noted, trying his best to pry Alpine's arms off of Cliffjumper's hand.

Prime nodded to Ratchet before making to leave the medical center. He was going to have to keep an optic on his old friend, and ensure he was taking care of himself. With so many Autobots creating sparklings of late, he was going to run himself ragged if he wasn't careful. At least Alpine seemed to be the last among Prime's troops, unless some unlikely mech like Cosmos or Prowl decided to surprise him with a carriage.

Once word had reached the Autobots in general that Optimus Prime had sired a sparkling, it had sparked a firestorm of controversy. Many questioned the wisdom of creating children during a time of war, especially when the Autobots had just lost Cybertron and were seeking refuge on Earth and any number of colony worlds. Was it truly fair to bring new sparklings into a universe where they would have no future, and no hope of creating one for themselves?

Others had sided with the Prime, however. Just because they had lost the planet didn't mean the war was over, or that the Autobots were consigned to exile forever. There was still hope for a future, however slim… and perhaps ushering in a new generation would ensure that they fought to create that future.

So when Ironhide had announced that he and Chromia were expecting a sparkling of their own mere weeks after Prime had broken his own news, the Autobots had seen it as a sign of solidarity, that Ironhide chose to stand with the Prime on this matter. And soon more Autobots had chosen to spark their own children, declaring their support for Optimus and determined to show that the loss of Cybertron was nothing more than a setback. Even the Autobot Council, some of the most vocal critics of Prime and Elita's decision, had backed down and shown their grudging support.

Ironhide, meanwhile, never had the spark to tell anyone besides Optimus and Elita that Zinc's sparking had been a complete accident rather than a show of solidarity. That didn't change the fact that he adored his daughter, of course… or that he was proud of having unintentionally spearheaded the movement.

Speaking of Ironhide, though… he quickened his pace, making for Ironhide's residence. Elita and Chromia had arranged a playdate for some of the older sparklings there, and he wanted to check on how everyone was doing. He hoped everyone was getting along, but with some of those sparklings - especially Grimlock's little biters - it was hard to predict just how well things would be going.

* * *

It was remarkable, Elita thought, just how quickly the situation could change when sparklings were involved. Just seconds ago the little ones - Orion, Caliber, Zinc, Rhapsody, Paddles, and Soar - had been playing more or less calmly together, giggling and chattering amongst themselves. Now Zinc and Paddles rolled about on the floor as they punched and kicked and screamed, scattering toys and sending the other sparklings fleeing in all directions.

"That's enough, you two!" Elita shouted, reaching down to pull a terrified Orion out of the way. "Stop this right now!"

Neither femme heeded her - they were far too intent on hurling childish-sounding but no less passionately felt insults at one another as they grappled. A few of the words they used made Orion's jaw drop, and while they certainly weren't the worst they could have used, they were bad enough that she knew Ironhide was going to get a stern talking-to whenever Chromia saw him next.

Chromia, for her part, skipped right past the verbal warning and waded right into the fray, grabbing each femme by the collar of their plating and pulling them apart. Paddles hissed and strained to claw at Zinc, but the yellow femme was just out of reach.

"That's enough, you two," Chromia told them, voice calm but firm. "And Zinc, I expected better out of you."

"She started it!" Zinc shrieked.

"Did not!" Paddles retorted.

"I don't care who started it!" Chromia barked. "Now you two go to opposite corners and sit quietly a moment, and think about how you're going to handle this differently from now on."

Paddles stared up at Chromia, optics narrowed. "You're not my dad. You can't punish me."

Chromia smirked. "You can go take a time out, or I can tell your dad about this when he comes to pick you up. It's your choice."

Paddles' aquamarine optics brightened at the threat, and she wriggled out of Chromia's grip and stomped off to the corner to pout. Zinc slunk off to her own corner, and Chromia waited until both femmes had taken their places before going to sit beside Elita again.

"I don't get why some mechs claim that femmes are easier because they don't fight," she sighed. "In my experience, fights between femmes are just as vicious as fights between mechs."

"Or more so," Elita replied. "I thought they were going to claw each others' optics out!"

"At least there wasn't any biting this time," Chromia pointed out. "With Paddles, that's always a possibility."

Elita couldn't help a laugh. "True… very true."

Orion wriggled out of Elita's grasp and returned to his action figures, settling back into his game with Rhapsody as if nothing had happened. Soar, too, returned to his own game, which seemed to consist of arranging blocks in neat rows rather than actually building anything out of them. Caliber stayed huddled behind a chair, peering out from behind it as if expecting violence to break out again at any moment.

"Go on," she urged him. "It's over. Everything's okay."

He gazed at her a long moment, then crept out of his hiding place and crouched down by Soar, watching him arrange blocks. Soar didn't even look up at him, too intently focused on his task, though he did scoot over to make room for the purple sparkling.

Elita's gaze moved from Soar to Paddles, and she had to smile a little. Grimlock couldn't have picked a more different pair of sparklings to adopt had he set out deliberately to do so. Paddles was large for her age, bulky with extra armor, while Soar was slender and bore a set of stubby wings on his shoulders. Where Paddles was a utilitarian gray trimmed in splashes of dull gold and with green-blue optics, Soar was a vivid combination of royal blue and sunny yellow with striking violet optics. And where Paddles was a scrappy creature who preferred to solve problems by hitting them (much like her adoptive father, Elita thought), Soar was intensely quiet and introverted, preferring his own games over joining the other sparklings.

Perhaps it was that quiet nature that made Caliber gravitate towards the blue sparkling, Elita thought. Zinc and Paddles' more aggressive temperaments seemed to scare him off - ironic, given who his father was - but Soar's calm and contemplative nature seemed to suit him just fine. And while Soar wasn't overly friendly, he never seemed to mind Caliber's company.

 _You know, it's probably not just his past trauma that makes him so quiet,_ Elita thought. _Maybe, against all odds, Caliber's just quiet by nature. I wonder if that was a disappointment to his father… I'm sure he was hoping for a more aggressive heir._

Rhapsody, meanwhile, seemed to tire of her game with Orion, and she pushed her action figures away and turned to one of her favorite toys - a small keyboard. Somehow, seeing the black-and-red sparkling settling in so well among the rest of the young ones gave Elita some hope for Caliber. For before the son of Megatron's sudden arrival, Rhapsody had been the odd one out among them, her scarlet optics a sure sign of her heritage that had drawn plenty of attention from both other sparklings and adults, not all of it good.

Jazz and Grimlock had both been part of the relief efforts after the Spiralis Disaster, digging out survivors from cities and sectors that had been damaged but not completely obliterated by the devastation. Neither of them had expected to come out of the mission with orphaned sparklings in tow… and while Grimlock's adoption of Paddles and Soar had come as a surprise to many, Jazz taking a Decepticon foundling under his care had sparked even more controversy. It didn't matter that she was a mere child, and an orphan at that - there were some who claimed any Decepticon was dangerous no matter their age, and that she should have been locked up with the rest of the prisoners.

Jazz, never one to follow the crowd, had simply told the detractors exactly where they could stick their objections. He loved his daughter, whether or not she came from his spark, and he'd be fragged if anyone took her from him. And Rhapsody was utterly besotted with her adoptive father - whether because she saw him as a hero for rescuing her or because their personalities were compatible, who could say?

Caliber had been watching Soar intently, occasionally pushing a few blocks closer so he could continue his organizing, but he perked up as Rhapsody began picking out a simple but lively melody on the keyboard. His headfins quivered, and his optics lit up with interest. He edged away from Soar and crept closer to the black femme.

Rhapsody looked from the keyboard. "Hi."

Caliber stared at her, and Elita wondered if her red optics had surprised him. Optic color was hardly a sign of faction, but so few Autobots had red optics that seeing them again for the first time in weeks had to be shocking for him.

"Hi," he said at last.

Rhapsody smiled at him, then began pressing the keys again, replaying the tune. "Dad showed me how to play this. Wanna try?"

Caliber shook his head. "I dunno how. But I like listening to it." He hugged his griffon plush to his chest. "My uncle used to play music for me. I liked it."

Elita and Chromia exchanged a look, then leaned forward to listen more closely. Caliber rarely discussed his past, and the mention of family beyond his sire and carrier was too fascinating to ignore.

"Dad says music is like energon for the spark," Rhapsody replied. "Does your uncle say that?"

Caliber shook his head. "Uncle 'Wave doesn't talk much. And he's…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "I don't wanna talk about it."

 _Uncle 'Wave…_ Was Caliber talking about Soundwave? There were a few other Decepticons whose names ended in "wave," but of those only Shockwave and Soundwave would have any reason to be near Caliber on a regular basis - and with Shockwave confirmed as his carrier, that left only one other option. And while it made some degree of sense, given Soundwave's supposed affinity for music, it still surprised Elita that Caliber would talk so fondly of the Communications Officer… and so obviously miss him.

Rhapsody, bless her, didn't press him. "Wanna hear another one? Dad taught me a few songs."

Caliber nodded. "Yes, please."

She smiled and began picking out another tune. Caliber settled in to listen and watch, visibly relaxing as Rhapsody played.

"Will you look at that," Chromia murmured, smiling. "It's amazing how easily they find common ground to bond over, isn't it?"

Elita nodded, smiling as well. "And we learned something new about his past as well." She wasn't sure what use the information that Soundwave had helped raise Caliber would be to them, but it was certainly worth knowing.

Prime walked into the playroom at that moment, taking a seat on Elita's other side. "What did I miss?"

Chromia rolled her optics. "Typical for the mechs to miss the knock-down drag-out fights."

"Ah, so that's why two of them are in time-out." Prime chuckled. "I'm sure you handled it well, though. Anything else?"

Elita nodded. "As a matter of fact, there is… Caliber just referred to Soundwave as an uncle."

Prime's optics flickered at that news. "Interesting… there's no confirmed relationship between Megatron and Soundwave, but that doesn't mean Caliber hasn't latched onto him as part of the family anyhow. Odd… we've fought these mechs for so long that it seems strange to think of them as a family of sorts."

"Soundwave's still in prison, though… slag, half the poor child's family is dead and the other half are prisoners. How is that going to affect him as he grows up?"

"Not all of his family." Prime nodded at Orion, who was making explosion noises with his vocalizer as he acted out a dramatic battle scene with his figures. "We're his family as well. I only hope he comes to accept that fully as time goes on."


	7. Soundwave's Role

" _Primus, he's tiny," Rumble noted from his perch on Soundwave's shoulder. "Thought you could choose the size of the chassis when making it. Why make him such a cyber-shrimp?"_

 _Soundwave didn't look away from the sleeping Caliber, but he answered Rumble's question in a soft tone. "Newly emerged spark: not strong enough to support full-sized chassis. Requires infant chassis until sufficient energy gained to support larger body."_

" _Well, I think he's cute like this," Frenzy replied from the edge of the crib. "What's it about little things that makes 'em adorable anyhow?"_

Does that mean we get to start calling you adorable too? _Laserbeak chirped from Soundwave's shoulder cannon._

" _Just try it, birdbrain."_

" _Enough," Soundwave rumbled. "Caliber: asleep. Consequences for waking him: dire."_

 _The cassettes, by some miracle, obeyed without protest. They gathered around the crib to watch the sparkling, who remained peacefully offline and unaware of their presence._

 _Soundwave knew he shouldn't be here. It wasn't as if he were forbidden from interacting with Megatron's heir - he was one of Megatron's most trusted officers, and more than once had been tasked with holding or watching over Caliber. But he knew that technically he had no right or reason to be interacting with the child unless strictly ordered to do so. This was Megatron and Shockwave's creation, not drawn from his spark, and as such should have remained firmly outside their family unit._

 _But he couldn't help himself. The blue mech knew he had a fearsome reputation among Autobot and Decepticon alike, his telepathic abilities and emotionless manner and the deadly abilities of his cassettes painting a frightening portrait of Megatron's most loyal officer. Behind the mask and persona, however, he had a softer side that he rarely let show to any save his cassettes. And somehow, the very existence of Caliber drew that side out of hiding._

 _Caliber stirred, yawning hugely before onlining his amber optics to peer up at his audience. His headfins twitched as he regarded the blue mech, then his tiny face screwed up as he began to keen in distress._

" _Hey, lil' guy," Frenzy cooed. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Don't be grumpy, 'kay?"_

 _The comment was made in jest, but it made Soundwave frown beneath his mask anyhow. Despite having a soft spark for children, his experience with them was fairly limited… but even so, Caliber seemed oddly cranky and fussy for such a young sparkling. When his sire held him he was usually calm and settled, but his cries were still a near-constant presence in Shockwave's tower. Many mechs had complained about the noise, but others were less upset about the noise and more concerned about the sparkling himself - the chemist Windblade being the most vocal in her worry._

 _Soundwave, too, worried about Caliber's constant crying. It wasn't due to neglect or abuse, he knew - Caliber looked perfectly healthy, and he knew Shockwave wouldn't dare neglect the care of Megatron's heir. Was he perhaps a budding outlier, reacting to some ability that had manifested far too early? Telepathy had been hard enough for him to deal with as a newly-upgraded adult; he could only imagine how agonizing a sudden influx of other mech's thoughts or feelings had to be for an infant._

He's going to overheat himself at this rate, _Ravage fretted as Caliber's cries grew steadily louder._ Do something.

" _We didn't exactly come prepared to play nurse!" Rumble snapped. "Got an energy cube or a toy on you?"_

" _Enough," Soundwave ordered. "Arguments: not helping."_

" _We gotta do SOMETHING!" Frenzy insisted._

 _Soundwave gazed down at the purple-and-silver sparkling, then decided on a particular "something" for himself. He activated his speakers and released a low hum, soft but at the right frequency to soothe the little one. It was a tactic that had often worked with his cassettes, and he saw no reason it wouldn't work with Caliber._

 _His instinct proved correct - Caliber's cries quieted to a soft fretting, not quite mollified but much calmer than before. He stared up at Soundwave with wide golden optics, as if trying to commit his features to memory. Soundwave kept up the quiet hum, and reached into the crib..._

" _I thought I told you to stay away from him."_

 _Soundwave glanced up sharply… and felt his internals rumble with disgust. "Shockwave."_

 _The violet Decepticon strode into Caliber's chamber, optic blazing, headfins twitching. "You have no business being in here. Get out."_

 _Soundwave bristled inwardly, but steeled himself against any outward sign of anger. "Negative. Assigned by Megatron to keep optic on Caliber."_

" _When neither of his creators are present to watch him," Shockwave retorted. "Megatron may be absent, but I am not, which means your presence is not needed."_

 _Caliber began fussing, and Soundwave realized he'd stopped humming when Shockwave had entered the room. He resumed the soft thrum, and the whimpering tapered off._

" _It can't be that simple to stop his crying," Shockwave protested, headfins pinned back in irritation. "But it's a solution nonetheless. I'll have to construct some sort of tonal device to keep in his quarters at all times."_

 _Soundwave's visor flashed. "Solution: temporary. Sparkling requires attention, not tonal device."_

" _Do you dare accuse me of neglecting the heir?" Shockwave demanded._

" _No accusation," Soundwave replied. "Stating facts."_

" _You state the wrong facts entirely," Shockwave retorted. "Caliber is kept at the appropriate energy levels, and gets adequate rest and medical attention. He is provided with objects to satisfy his need for amusement. He wants for nothing."_

" _If that's true, why's he cryin' all the time?" demanded Frenzy. "Don't sound like a kid who's perfectly taken care of to me."_

" _When you're a certified expert on parenting a sparkling, Frenzy, I will come to you for advice," Shockwave snapped. "And the same goes to you, Soundwave. Remember that Megatron chose me to carry his heir, not you. I believe that speaks for itself on who is more qualified to raise Caliber."_

 _Not for the first time Soundwave's spark twinged in… not jealousy, not exactly. More of a wistfulness, a disappointment he tried not to let himself dwell on too much. He knew that Megatron had considered him as a potential carrier for his heir, and learning he had been passed over in favor of Shockwave had been a blow. He would have been honored to carry his leader's child, and to raise them to take on the mantle of leadership. Even if it had meant stepping down from his other duties, he would have done it in a spark pulse._

 _But Megatron had needed him in other capacities, and had passed him over in favor of the Guardian of Cybertron. Soundwave had told himself he wouldn't be upset or jealous, and did his best to honor his leader's decision. But it still rankled on some level._

" _For the last time, Soundwave, get out of this room," Shockwave ordered. "I'll not have you disturbing Caliber any more than you already have."_

 _By this point Caliber's crying had reached a pitch that drove into Soundwave's audials like a laser drill. It wasn't just the audible wail that made his spark clench, though - it was the sense of loneliness behind it, of craving some sign of affection…_

 _He didn't even stop to think - he bent over the crib and scooped up Caliber, holding him to his chest. The sparkling instantly quieted, and curled up in his arms with a weary but contented sigh._

" _Awww… lookit that," Frenzy noted with a chuckle. "That's cute."_

 _Soundwave settled the sparkling into the crook of his arm, humming at the frequency that seemed to soothe and calm him. Only when Caliber had completely settled down did he look up at Shockwave, who was glaring at him with as much hatred as his single optic could muster._

" _Caliber: has needs beyond physical. Requires contact. Touch, affection. All sparklings do."_

" _I am a busy mech, Soundwave. I haven't time to devote every waking moment to coddling a sparkling. And Megatron's heir must learn self-reliance at some time. Best for him to learn at a young age."_

 _His spark flared with fury at that, but he clamped back his anger and focused on cradling the sparkling in his arms. "Neglect of physical affection is still neglect. Your excuses: insufficient._

" _And suddenly YOU'RE the expert at raising a sparkling?" Shockwave demanded, striding closer. "Let me tell you a few things, Soundwave…"_

" _Oh yes, tell him a few things. I'm VERY interested in hearing you explain your actions."_

 _Shockwave whirled, and Soundwave straightened as Megatron stormed into the sparkling's quarters. He turned, ready to put Caliber back into his crib. He'd overstepped his bounds here, and however justified he felt in interfering, he had interfered nonetheless in matters that were not his own._

" _Give him to me," Megatron ordered._

 _Soundwave nodded, and he transferred the sparkling into Megatron's arms. Caliber shifted, fussing slightly, then nestled against his sire's chest with a little coo. Megatron cupped a protective hand over the sparkling's back, and a tender expression crossed his faceplate so quickly that a less sharp-opticked mech than Soundwave would have missed it entirely._

" _Lord Megatron, I would appreciate it if you forbade Soundwave from meddling any further with-" began Shockwave._

" _Save it," Megatron snapped, all tenderness gone. "You've disappointed me, Shockwave. I expected you to properly raise my heir, but it seems I was mistaken."_

 _Shockwave's headfins quivered in fury. "I've done the best that I can given the circumstances, my Lord."_

" _Then change the circumstances," Megatron snapped. "You have duties that can be delegated to others. Raising my heir should be your first priority!"_

" _Your heir is always my top priority, my Lord, but I'll not delegate something as important as the Annihilator to another mech, or the supervision of the space bridge. Those are just as important the cause as your heir."_

 _Megatron's optics flared a vivid crimson, and Soundwave wondered if he was about to see Shockwave struck for insolence. But the warlord just curled his lip in disgust and turned his back on the violet mech._

" _Then I'm delegating your responsibilities for you. Soundwave, you are hereby pulled from active duty. Your cassettes will continue their espionage duties, but you will remain on Cybertron and help take care of Caliber."_

 _Soundwave's spark swelled in its chamber, but he betrayed no outward sign of his delight at the order. He merely nodded at Megatron. "As you command."_

" _My Lord, this is patently absurd," Shockwave argued. "I'm perfectly capable of raising your heir myself. And Soundwave is of far more use to you on the battlefield."_

" _Are you arguing with me?" Megatron growled. "That's highly unlike you, Shockwave. My decision is final. And once the Annihilator is finished, none of us will be needed on the battlefield. Soundwave is merely being reassigned sooner than expected. And I know HE won't fail me in this endeavor."_

 _Shockwave's headfins flicked back, anger radiating off of him in a palpable wave. Then he turned and strode from the room without another word._

" _First Starscream and now Shockwave… are all my officers turning traitor right as victory nears?" Megatron pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor before turning back to Soundwave. "At least one of my most trusted soldiers remains loyal." The words_ he'd better be or else _went unspoken, but were heavily implied._

" _First priority: Caliber," Soundwave assured him. "I will not fail you."_

* * *

"Okay, boys, time for bed."

"Awwww, Mom!" Orion groaned, looking up from the block city he and Caliber were building. "Five more minutes?"

"I've given you 'five more minutes' four times now," Elita replied. "It's time to pick up and get ready for bed. We have a busy day tomorrow. You too, Caliber."

Caliber nodded. "Can we leave this up?" He gestured at the collection of buildings the two sparklings had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening setting up.

"That's perfectly fine," Elita told him. "Just make sure everything else is picked up."

He nodded again and bent down to start gathering the action figures scattered throughout the room. Orion stole a moment to put a few more blocks atop the tallest building before moving to help the violet sparkling.

Elita watched them straighten up the playroom for a moment longer before going back to the storage cupboards for their nightly energon. Thank Primus the two of them were headed for recharge with minimal fuss tonight - more often than not breaking them off from their play and herding them to bed took a Firstforged's patience. They weren't prone to tantrums, at least, but they could still be rebellious when they wanted to be.

Though even in their rebellion, there were significant - and surprising - differences between the two of them. Orion was the more vocal of the two, and would endlessly plead for "five more minutes" or find other excuses to delay being sent to bed. Caliber's defiance was quieter but no less frustrating - he would simply ignore any order he didn't like and continue what he was doing until Elita made him stop.

 _Optimus will insist that their stubbornness is a good trait,_ she thought. _That it'll give them the courage to stand up for their convictions later on. Maybe so… but that doesn't make raising two strong-willed little ones any less frustrating._

She set out two cubes of low-grade, lost in her thoughts. It had been about a quarter of an orbital cycle since Optimus had arrived home with Caliber in his arms, and during that time the sparkling had managed to settle into his own niche in their family. He still had the occasional nightmare, and he was still shy around anyone except Optimus and Orion, but he was no longer the terrified child Prime had brought home.

If he was far quieter than the average sparkling… well, he HAD spent months on the run with his father, and had probably seen some terrible things during that time. Any sparkling would be traumatized into silence by that. And perhaps it was just in his nature to be calmer and quieter than his playmates - not every sparkling enjoyed being loud and rowdy, thank Vector Sigma.

Orion dashed into the room and climbed into a chair, grabbing a cube. "All done, Mom!"

"Did you pick up everything?" she asked as Caliber trotted into the room and reached for the second cube.

Orion nodded and managed a bubbly "uh-huh" as he drank.

"Did you put everything away, or did you hide things in the vents again?"

"I put everything away!" Orion insisted.

"Good," Elita replied, though she made a note to check the vents after the boys were in recharge. "Caliber, did you help?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, tucking his griffon toy under one arm as he settled in to refuel. "Except the city."

"I did tell you that could stay up," she said with a smile. "I'll show it to Optimus when he gets home. I'm sure he'll love to see you boys' work."

"Why's he work so late all the time?" Orion asked, looking up from his cube. "He used to read us stories before we went to bed!"

"The Council needs his help to fix Cybertron after the war," she replied, pulling a cloth out of subspace and wiping off the energon mustache Orion had acquired. "Just because the war is over doesn't mean the hard work is over. They have to make new laws and decide what buildings get fixed first, and your father has to be there to help the Council make those choices."

"I think the Council can do all that without Dad's help," Orion snorted.

Privately Elita agreed with her son, and she knew Prime did as well... but she decided no good could come from telling Orion that. "The Council believes they do need his help. So he's staying to help. But soon they'll be able to manage without his help, and you'll see him in the evenings again."

"Good!" Orion declared, and finished up his cube. Caliber didn't speak, but his optics brightened in silent agreement.

"Are you done with your fuel, Caliber?"

"Yes, ma'am." He pushed the empty cube toward her.

"You don't need to call me 'ma'am,' Caliber," she assured him as she picked up the empty cubes. "You can call me Elita if you want… or Mom, if you'd rather." Immediately she chided herself for being too bold, but she couldn't exactly take the words back… and perhaps it would make Caliber more comfortable to call her that.

Caliber pondered that with such a serious expression she almost laughed. "Okay, Elita."

She sighed softly, but accepted "Elita" for now. It was still preferable to being addressed as if she were a military commander instead of a parent. And perhaps it would help the two of them establish a better bond - he was still so oddly distant from her, and even if he wasn't sparked from her programming, that felt like rejection, and it hurt a little.

"Can I call you Elita too?" asked Orion with a cheeky grin.

Elita sighed again. "I won't stop you, but don't make a habit of it."

"Okay." His grin broadened, and she knew she'd just initiated a phase of Orion referring to his parents by their proper names instead of "Mom" and "Dad." Well, she'd sort of brought it on herself, so she couldn't exactly complain.

Her gaze rested on the griffon plush tucked under Caliber's arm - a plush so worn and grimy it was far more gray than purple. "Caliber, would you like me to wash your toy for you while you sleep? I'll give it back in the morning."

He shook his head and hugged the toy tightly to his chest. "Wanna sleep with Purple."

"Are you sure? He's awfully dirty."

"I don't care." He gripped the toy with such force it was a wonder it didn't burst into a cloud of cloth and stuffing. "He's mine."

"Okay then… but maybe tomorrow we can give him a bath together. I'm sure he'd feel much better if he was clean."

Caliber nodded, accepting that compromise. He was so attached to the stuffed griffon that he dragged it everywhere with him, from playdates to medic visits to trips to the washrack, and it was looking much worse for the wear. More than once Elita had wondered if letting him cling so tightly to the toy wasn't going to be harmful in the long run… but at the same time, she didn't have the heart to separate it from him. He'd already lost so much in his young life - no sense making him lose something else dear to him.

"Are you two ready for recharge now?"

"Yes ma- Elita," Caliber replied.

"Can we get a story before bed?" asked Orion.

"I'm not as good at it as your father, but I can do that," Elita replied. "Any you want to hear?"

"That one from Earth about the bird that wants to drive a bus!" Orion insisted.

"Caliber, does that one sound good to you?"

He nodded.

"Then head for the living room and get settled. I'll be right there."

Orion whooped and dashed off, while Caliber followed at a more sedate pace. Elita took a moment to gather her thoughts before heading after them. She still had no idea what was going to come of this venture - of raising Megatron's son alongside her own. But at least now she faced the task without the fear and apprehension of before. She had never really seen Caliber as a threat to any of their family, but raising the son of their greatest enemy had still been a foreboding prospect. Now… now she found herself thinking of him with as much fondness as her own son, and doing her best to treat the two of them equally.

 _I just wish he wasn't so distant,_ she thought. _Though I suppose we can't expect him to forget his own family just because we're kind to him. I just wish I knew more about what his life was like before Spiralis, and before he came here._

* * *

Orion waited for a good hour after Mom had shut his bedroom door before wriggling out of bed, grabbing his stuffed turbofox toy on the way. Despite her insistence that growing sparks needed their rest and nightly defrags, he wasn't in any way tired. And there was so much he wanted to do that he'd be slagged before he wasted an entire night just sleeping.

He cracked open the bedroom door and listened closely, ready to shut it and bolt for his berth should he hear footsteps or voices getting closer. His audials caught the low murmur of his father's voice, and he relaxed a little. Mom was getting Dad caught up on the events of the day, which meant that they'd both be occupied for awhile. Plenty of time for him to sneak out and slip into Caliber's room undetected.

When Dad had announced that Caliber would be staying with them "for awhile," Orion had figured that meant the other sparkling would be leaving within the next few days. And as a result he'd decided it was best to be nice but not TOO nice. If Caliber was going to be gone within a week, he didn't want to get attached only to lose a new friend right away.

It was one thing to tell himself that, though, and another to go through with it. And somehow being nice to Caliber out of obligation had turned into being nice to him because he liked him. Once the other sparkling had gotten over his fear he'd actually been a fun playmate, and even if he wasn't as fond of noisy or violent games as Orion was, they still enjoyed building things or watching videos or playing more laid-back board and video games together. It almost felt like Caliber wasn't just a long-term guest, but the little brother he never knew he wanted.

He crept down the hallway and opened the door to Caliber's bedroom. They weren't supposed to be in each other's rooms after bedtime, but that didn't stop one or the other of them from sneaking out occasionally to pay a visit to the other. Caliber was a little more talkative away from the adults, Orion had discovered, and had slowly but surely opened up about his family and his life before coming to Iacon.

He'd only shared snippets so far - bits and pieces of stories, anecdotes really, that didn't quite tie together into a whole. And he avoided naming any of his family outside of a mysterious "Uncle 'Wave." But Orion still enjoyed hearing them, especially the bits and pieces about the war itself. Caliber had actually seen a couple of the battles up close, and while he insisted they were scary, Orion thought it sounded terribly exciting.

 _He actually saw the Spiralis Disaster! Yeah, he said it was from a distance, but still… And his sire fought on the front lines! I wonder if it was one of Dad's soldiers. But he hasn't talked about any of them like they've gone offline…_

His thoughts trailed off as he shut Caliber's door behind him. Caliber was already awake, the thermal blanket draped over him like a tent… and he was talking. Not muttering in his recharge like he sometimes did, but talking softly but clearly.

"...and they're really nice to me here, but I miss Dad and Carrier. And Uncle 'Wave too… is he okay? Are they hurting him?"

A few beats of silence followed, as if he were talking on a comm unit and listening to a response.

"I wish I could see them again. Will they get out? Daddy said there wasn't a prison built that could keep Uncle 'Wave in…"

The word _prison_ made Orion's oil freeze in his lines.

"Can you talk to Daddy? Tell him I miss him..."

Orion couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He reached out and whipped the thermal blanket off… revealing two forms huddled on the berth. Two sets of optics regarded him in shock, one gold and the other a blazing red.

 _Red optics… Decepticons!_ There was a Decepticon in Caliber's bedroom! And while he knew red optics didn't always mean danger - Rhapsody had red optics but was perfectly nice - the sleek black form crouching on the berth screamed "danger" to him. And the wicked violet symbol that gleamed on his shoulder just confirmed it.

He opened his mouth to scream for Daddy - only for Caliber to lunge across the berth and clamp his hand over it. "Don't!"

"That's a Decepticon!" Orion shouted - or tried to shout. With the other sparkling's hand pressed against his mouth it came out sounding garbled.

"It's okay!" Caliber insisted. "Ravage is my friend!"

Orion stared at him with wide, blazing optics. Caliber's friend was a Decepticon? But they were evil and scary, weren't they? His dad had fought them for years, and they'd just won a terrible war against them… surely this one was dangerous!

The Decepticon rose to its feet, its panther-like body silhouetted against the streetlight streaming through the window. It nodded once at Caliber, then leaped soundlessly out the open window.

Caliber slowly lowered his hand from Orion's mouth. "Please don't scream… and don't tell Optimus or Elita. Please."

"That was a Decepticon, though," Orion insisted. "They're evil!"

Caliber's optics flashed. "They're not evil!"

"But they hurt people! They fight wars and they destroyed a lot of cities and…" His voice trailed off at the stricken look on Caliber's face, and the truth hit him. "You're a Decepticon?"

Caliber looked away, but the cleanser building up in his optical ducts told Orion the truth. He was a Decepticon… or at least his parents had been, much like Rhapsody's. And suddenly a great many things made sense - the way some adults looked at Caliber, the mention of his uncle being in prison, how Mom and Dad never talked about Caliber's family when they thought Orion was around, and of course the Decepticon that had just left the bedroom.

Orion thought that he should have been terrified at this discovery, or angry, or something… but to his surprise, he felt only worry for Caliber. He looked so stricken and terrified now that his secret was out in the open that any thought of being mad or scared fled his CPU.

He patted the violet sparkling's shoulder. "I won't tell. It'll be our secret."

Caliber went limp with relief, and he scooted over on the bed to make room for Orion. "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier. But I didn't want you to get scared."

"I'm not scared," Orion insisted. "I was never scared."

Caliber stared at him. "You were gonna scream."

"I wasn't scared! I was… surprised. That's all."

Caliber seemed to think otherwise, but he didn't press the issue. "Ravage visits every few nights. He tells me how my dad and Uncle 'Wave are doing. They're in prison, he says, but I hope they get out soon. I really wanna see them again."

"Who's your dad?" Orion asked. "You've talked about him but never said his name."

Caliber hesitated. "If I tell… promise not to get mad?"

"I won't get mad," Orion vowed. "I wanna hear all about your family. Every detail."

Caliber looked doubtful, but he took a deep breath and began speaking, clutching Purple close to his chest. Orion hugged his turbofox plush and listened raptly, hanging onto every word.


	8. Starting School

" _C'mon, Caliber, you can do it! Just a few steps!"_

 _The sparkling gave her a look that bordered on incredulity, and Glory had to bite her lower lip plates to keep from laughing aloud. For being such a tiny thing, Caliber could act so serious. Though maybe she should have expected that, given who his parents were…_

" _C'mon, walk to me!" she urged, holding her hands out. "You can do it!"_

 _Caliber looked at the chair he was clutching to keep his balance, then back at her. Then he let go of the chair and took a shaky step toward her, arms outstretched, golden optics bright and fixed on her as he toddled forward._

" _There you go," she beamed. "You're doing so good, look at you!"_

 _The sparkling wobbled a bit, but somehow managed to keep his balance. He stumbled forward the last few steps and practically fell into her hands, and she scooped him up in her arms._

" _Good job, Caliber!"_

 _His optics flared, and he giggled and grabbed the sides of her face. She giggled in return and touched her olfactory sensor to his before setting him down in her lap, grabbing his griffon toy and placing it in his arms. He clung to the toy but made no move to leave her lap, settling down as if that short walk had tired him out beyond endurance._

 _Glory patted Caliber's back. She was an only child, and she didn't get to spend a lot of time with Caliber - he was usually with Megatron or Soundwave, and she was too intimidated by both mechs to approach the sparkling when they were around. But she liked to imagine that Caliber was a little brother of sorts, a fellow sparkling she could look after and help take care of. True, he was still too young for a lot of her favorite games, but she still enjoyed looking after him when the adults were busy._

 _Speaking of the adults… she glanced up at the gathered mechs. They occupied the far end of the conference room, ignoring the sparklings as usual. Normally that irritated her - just because she was small didn't mean she liked being overlooked - but today she didn't mind. If Shockwave saw she was playing with Caliber, he'd probably get upset and take him away. She wasn't sure why he fussed so much over her spending time with the sparkling, honestly… especially when he didn't seem to want to spend a lot of time with him himself._

" _It's too soon!" Windblade insisted, waving a hand emphatically. "Too soon to even think about activating it!"_

" _Are you saying that you lied to me when you declared the construction was complete?" demanded Megatron with a scowl._

" _Construction on the Annihilator was completed a decacycle ago," Shockwave replied. "But it is customary to run tests and properly calibrate any weapon before its first activation-"_

 _Megatron snorted and waved Shockwave's words away. "The weapon is finished. My scientists have done their best work on it - or at least they SHOULD have. I see no reason why we cannot simply take the weapon onto the battlefield and USE it!"_

" _Sir, if I may," Piston cut in. "We're all extremely proud of the work we've done on the Annihilator." There was something in her father's tone that made Glory believe he was lying, but she decided that no good would come of pointing that out. "But we're dealing with something incredibly dangerous - more so than any ordinary weapon. We're dealing with toxic chemicals, acids and corrosives, compounds that are far too dangerous to take chances with. If we could just run some tests and ensure the weapon is working properly before actually using it, it would be safest for all involved."_

 _Windblade nodded emphatically. "Some of those compounds we developed and used… I shudder to think what might happen if they leaked out during a catastrophic malfunction. For the safety of Cybertron, sir, we MUST conduct testing before it's used in combat!"_

 _Shockwave nodded, his headfins angled back and quivering slightly as if he were nervous. "I must concur with my chemists, Lord Megatron. And I believe dismissing their advice at this time would be foolish."_

" _I've heard their advice," Megatron snapped. "And it has been given its due consideration. Now tell your technicians to ready it for action! Tomorrow, we use the Annihilator to wipe out the moon bases - and the Autobots who have taken refuge there!"_

 _Windblade's wings twitched madly, and she opened her mouth to give Megatron a piece of her CPU. Piston gripped her hand in his and squeezed tightly, and she shut her mouth, but her optics flashed with anger and dismay._

" _I strongly advise against this…" began Shockwave._

" _You have already displeased me, Shockwave," Megatron countered, glaring at the violet mech. "Don't push me further."_

 _Shockwave's headfins pinned back like the ears of an angry electrocat. "As you command, my Lord."_

 _Megatron nodded. "Then have the Annihilator ready to fire by 1100 tomorrow. This will be our first step towards eliminating the Autobots once and for all… and securing our hold on Cybertron!"_

 _Glory yelped and jumped as Megatron belted out a triumphant laugh. That action cut his laughter short, and he turned to level his gaze on her and Caliber. She hunched her shoulders in a vain effort to make herself smaller. Shockwave never liked it when she held Caliber, and she had no reason to think Megatron would approve of it either…_

" _Who is this?" Megatron demanded._

" _That's our daughter, sir," Piston replied. "Glory. Please excuse her, she's been very curious about Caliber."_

" _So I see." He strode forward… then to Glory's amazement he sank down to one knee, putting himself closer to their level. "You've been looking after him while we've been speaking, haven't you?"_

 _She nodded, letting herself relax a little. "He's getting much stronger, sir. He's starting to walk!"_

" _Excellent. So he'll shortly be ready for his second child frame." Megatron reached down and scooped Caliber out of Glory's arms. "Thank you for keeping an optic on him, child."_

" _You're welcome, sir."_

 _Megatron lifted Caliber in his arms, letting the sparkling settle in on his shoulder. "Soon… very soon… Cybertron shall be a safe place for our sparklings. Both you and Caliber will inherit a world where you can choose your own destiny, where a corrupt ruling class won't hold you back. And you will forge a brighter, more glorious future for our kind!"_

 _Glory had no idea what to say about that, so just nodded in response._

" _Carry on," Megatron ordered Shockwave and her parents. "Have the Annihilator ready at the appointed time… or there will be consequences." And he strode off, still carrying the sparkling._

 _Caliber caught Glory's optic over his sire's shoulder and smiled, and she smiled and waved back. She liked the little guy, even if his parents were a little intimidating. Hopefully she'd get a chance to sparkling-sit for him a little more often._

 _She had no way of knowing that would be the last time she would see Caliber for a long time._

* * *

"Dad, did you know about Caliber's dad?"

Prime lowered the cloth he'd been using to clean off Orion's face and gave him a serious look. "Did I know what about Caliber's dad?"

"You know," Orion insisted, voice dropping to a conspiratol whisper. "About… Megatron."

Prime expected to feel shock at that statement, but was surprised to find only a mix of resignation and dread. He should have known this day would come - the day when Orion discovered the truth about his foster brother's origins. He just hadn't expected it to come this soon, and completely without his knowledge. And he wasn't looking forward to the resulting discussion, even if it was necessary.

"Elita, go on and take Caliber to school," he told her. "I'll bring Orion along as soon as we're done talking."

She nodded and took the violet-and-silver sparkling's hand. "Come, Caliber. We don't want to be late on your first day."

Caliber clutched his griffon toy to his chest with his free hand and followed Elita out the door. Prime felt torn between worry and amusement at seeing him go - judging by his expression, one would think he was being marched off to a labor camp, not going to school.

"Orion, where did you hear this?" Prime asked, returning his attention to his son.

"Caliber told me last night," Orion replied. "Is it true?"

Prime sighed deeply and nodded. "It's true. Caliber is Megatron's son."

"Whoa." Orion's optics glowed with amazement. "And Shockwave's his carrier? Is he gonna turn into a gun like those two? That'd be so cool!"

 _He learns his foster brother's the son of two of the most infamous Decepticons ever and he fixates on the alt modes,_ Prime thought wryly. _Bless children for choosing to focus on the oddest things._

"He'll get to choose his own alt mode when he's old enough," he said aloud. "In the meantime… you know about Megatron, right?"

"A little… he's like, evil and stuff, right? And you fought him and beat him!"

"That's a very simple way of putting it… and no, he isn't evil, despite what you may have heard. He made some terrible decisions and did some terrible things, but that doesn't make a mech evil."

"But I heard he was trying to take over Cybertron!" Orion insisted. "And that he killed a lot of mechs! Isn't that evil?"

Prime shuttered his optics as he contemplated how to phrase his next words. To many mechs, including the Council, Megatron's actions would definitely classify him as evil. Even Prime himself, despite his compassionate nature, had seen Megatron as little more than a sadistic tyrant at times. But he was doing his best to shake that point of view… and he wanted to ensure Orion didn't pick it up either. For if he assumed the warlord had been nothing more than an evil villain, it would taint his relationship with Caliber… and make the little sparkling suffer for crimes he didn't commit.

"Orion, I'm going to tell you something very important," he said at last. "And I want you to always remember it, no matter what anyone else tries to tell you. Can you do that for me?"

Orion nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Good. Remember this, Orion - no mech, no matter what he has done, is evil."

"But-"

"Actions can be evil," he went on. "Hurting someone else for your own gain, or because you're angry, or for no reason other than you can, is evil. And yes, Megatron has done some very evil things. But mechs are capable of doing good things as well as evil… and though Megatron has done some very terrible things, that doesn't make him evil."

Orion frowned, trying to puzzle that out for himself. "But he's not GOOD, right? How can he be good if he hurt so many people?"

"He also created Caliber," Prime reminded him. "And even though he has hurt many people, he was also known as a fair leader to his own troops. He has done good things as well as bad things, and while he has to face consequences for the bad things he's done, he isn't evil."

The poor sparkling reeled a little as he tried to process what he'd been told. "So… there's no good guys or bad guys? They're a little of both?"

Prime nodded. "Mechs are a lot more complex than the holoshows or your comics like to make out. That's a hard lesson to learn… but learning it will make you a much better mech."

"But not a good guy."

Prime chuckled. "We're all capable of doing both good and evil, Orion. But I know you will do a lot of good." He patted his shoulder. "But there are a lot of mechs who think Megatron is nothing but evil… and they think that Caliber will be evil too, simply because of who his father is."

"But he's not evil!" Orion protested. "He's never done anything bad! Well, he said a bad word at Paddles the other day while we were playing, but that was 'cause she kept pushing him and he got mad. And Zinc got in trouble 'cause she taught him that word-"

"All right, all right." Prime raised a hand to silence Orion, chuckling a little. "Just like anyone else, he can do both good things and bad things. But there are going to be a lot of people who judge him for what his father did. We're going to do our best to protect him, but he's in for a very hard time because of it."

Orion scowled. "If anyone's mean to him because of his dad, I'll punch 'em!"

Prime winced. That hadn't been the lesson he wanted to impart to his son. "No hitting, Orion… but I'm proud of you for wanting to stand up for Caliber. The most important thing you can do for him is to be his friend and ally. That, more than anything else, will help him."

Orion nodded. "We're already friends, though."

"Good… then just keep being his friend." He patted the sparkling's shoulder, then stood. "Now let's get you to school."

"Okay."

Prime took Orion's hand and led him out the door, quickening his pace slightly to catch up with Elita and Caliber. That had gone better than he'd expected. And while he still worried about how the general public would react to Caliber, it relieved him to know he'd have an ally. Especially with the two of them about to start school, where Prime and Elita wouldn't be able to supervise them on a constant basis.

 _They'll do well,_ he told himself. _Both of them. And the other sparklings like Caliber. He's going to be just fine._ Maybe if he repeated that to himself enough times, it would be the truth.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I don't know how you could possibly think we're joking, Syntax," Elita replied, narrowing her optics. "We have two sparklings we want to enroll in classes here. They're the right age, and we have all their records. We don't see what the issue is."

Syntax, a broad-shouldered slate-blue mech with a transparent blue visor over his optics, leaned over the registrar's desk to gaze at the two sparklings with a critical optic. Orion met his gaze fearlessly, while Caliber hunched in his chair and ducked his face behind Purple's wings. Some part of him figured he should be used to mechs looking at him like they expected him to sprout fangs or horns at any moment, but the stares and glowers never got any easier to bear.

"The Iacon Primary School prides itself in maintaining a safe environment for its pupils," Syntax declared, settling back into his seat. "We want our students to feel secure and to remain undistracted in their education. And you expect us to shatter that security by accepting the spawn of Megatron as a student?!"

Prime's engine rumbled, almost a growl. "His name is Caliber. Call him _spawn_ one more time and there will be problems."

Syntax shrank back, slightly cowed but not entirely deterred. "Very well, sir… having _Caliber_ as a student at this school will only lead to trouble. We're not going to jeopardize the safety of our pupils by enrolling a troublemaker."

"And just how do you know he's a troublemaker?" Elita demanded. "He's a perfectly well-behaved sparkling, and he deserves a chance at an education. And you're going to deny him that simply because you've made an assumption about him?"

"He's the creation of the Great Slagmaker!" Syntax retorted. "Of course he's going to be a troublemaker!"

Caliber winced and scooted a little closer to Orion, who grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Why were so many adults upset with him anyhow? He couldn't understand why he got angry looks and comments when he went out in public, or why some mechs wouldn't even walk on the same side of the street as him. At least before it had been relatively easy to ignore those adults… but confronted with an angry adult who seemed to hate him on sight was much harder to ignore.

"And here I thought this school prided itself on diversity," Prime noted, shaking his head. "On accepting anyone and everyone, regardless of function or family affiliations. You had no issues with Rhapsody enrolling. Or Blackjack."

"Rhapsody and Blackjack might be Decepticon in origin, but neither were the creation of a tyrant," Syntax countered. "And yes, Iacon Primary School normally accepts enrollment from anyone… but we really must make an exception this time. I'm sure there are more suitable options for Caliber - the alternative school at Tyger Pax, or even homeschooling…"

"The alternative school is for children who've been expelled from other schools for bad behavior!" Elita snapped. "Caliber's never done anything to warrant being sent there! Will you seriously not even give him a chance?"

"If giving him a chance means placing every student in this school at risk, then no, we won't!"

Caliber huddled in a ball, squeezing Purple tightly against his chest. He wanted to plead with Prime and Elita to stop arguing and just take him home, that it wasn't worth all this fuss. The words wouldn't come out, however… not without tears, and he clung to enough pride to know that he would NOT cry in front of this mech…

"Might I ask what's going on here?"

Orion gasped in awe, and even Prime and Elita stood up a little straighter as a new mech entered the office. Caliber lowered Purple and glanced up… and felt a little wonder trickle through the fear and embarrassment. He'd never seen this mech before, but he looked so much like one of the wizards from the holovids he and Orion had watched a few weeks ago that he half-expected him to pull out a wand and cast a spell. The sleek purple-and-red armor, the crown-like crest on his helm, the strips of metal on his face mimicking a regal beard and mustache… it all cut an impressive figure in his optics.

"Alpha Trion, sir," Prime greeted, inclining his head in a slight bow.

"There's no need for formalities, Optimus," Alpha assured him. "I'd dare say a Prime outranks a school headmaster at the moment."

"You're the headmaster?" Elita asked.

"Indeed I am," he replied. "It's a bit of a change from what I was doing before, but when you're as old as I am you come to appreciate some variety." He steepled his fingers in front of him. "I just came in to inquire what was going on. I was just walking by and I heard raised voices."

"We were just here to enroll these two in your school," Prime replied, setting his hands on Orion and Caliber's shoulders. "But we're encountering a few difficulties."

"What sort of difficulties? I would think getting these two registered and in classes would be a simple enough affair." He regarded Syntax with a raised optic ridge.

"B-b-but Headmaster, sir," Syntax spluttered, seeming to realize he'd just goofed up in a big way. "This is Caliber, son of Megatron!"

Alpha Trion's optic ridge seemed to creep up higher. "And?"

"And? Sir, he's a known risk-"

"And has he exhibited any antisocial or destructive behavior?"

"No, but-"

"Then by all means enroll him," Alpha ordered. "I'm not in the habit of using a sparkling's lineage to determine whether they're acceptable to this school. We had quite enough of that in the old days." He nodded at the two sparklings. "Are the two of you ready for your first class?"

"Yeah!" Orion declared just as Caliber blurted "No."

Alpha chuckled. "Don't fret, Caliber - you're in good hands here. And you're in the same class as Orion, so you won't be thrown to the Sharkticons all by yourself." He held out a hand. "Why don't I walk you two to your class while your guardians finish the registration process?"

Orion nodded enthusiastically and grabbed the mech's hand. Caliber nodded as well, and took Alpha's other hand.

"Thank you, Alpha Trion," Prime told the Headmaster. "This means a great deal to us."

"It's no problem at all." He gave Prime and Elita a smile… a smile that faded as his gaze moved to Syntax. "When you're finished enrolling these two, see me in my office."

"Yes sir," Syntax replied in a subdued voice.

Caliber felt something in his spark relax as Alpha led the two boys out of the office and down a corridor. The nervous churning in his tanks didn't go away completely, but he still felt much better than he had when he'd first entered the school. Maybe Syntax was still going to hate him… but at least he had an ally in the Headmaster. An ally who was apparently very important to Prime and Elita, though how he wasn't sure yet.

Alpha finally stopped and opened a door, revealing a classroom containing about a dozen sparklings listening raptly as a silver-armored mech read aloud from a datapad. Caliber recognized Rhapsody, Paddles, and Zinc among the other students, and a little more of the tension drained from his chassis.

"Oh, hello Headmaster!" the mech greeted. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's splendid, Chainsaw," Alpha assured him. "Just bringing in two new students. These are Orion and Caliber, and they'll be joining your class."

Chainsaw's gaze rested on Caliber, and he braced himself for a terrible reaction. But to his relief, the mech just smiled and gestured to two empty seats.

"Go ahead and take your seats," he urged. "We're just going over some class rules before we get started. Thank you, Headmaster. I'll make sure they get settled."

"Very good." Alpha smiled at the two and ducked out of the room.

"Welcome to our class, Orion and Caliber," Chainsaw told them. "I'm looking forward to being your teacher this semester. Just raise your hand if you have any questions, all right?"

"Yes, sir," they chimed at the same time.

Chainsaw laughed. "Just Chainsaw'll do."

Caliber moved to take his seat, still hugging Purple close. Rhapsody gave him a little smile as he passed her desk, and Zinc waved enthusiastically. He smiled back and settled further into his seat as the teacher resumed reading. Maybe things were going to work out after all.


	9. Playground Fight

_The end of the war - and the moment the Decepticons' fortunes took a catastrophic turn - came not from a decisive battle or military maneuver, but from the flip of a switch._

 _Thanks to the terrible events of that day, no one would ever know just what caused the Annihilator to suffer such a catastrophic malfunction. Perhaps Shockwave had rushed its construction too much, resulting in fatal flaws in its structure. Perhaps errors had slipped into its code, either through programmer oversight or an all-too-successful saboteur. Or perhaps the superweapon's design had been flawed from the very start, and nothing could have stopped the inevitable - not even the thorough testing the scientists had called for._

 _In the end, it didn't matter. Whatever the cause, the result was the same - the Annihilator managed a single shot, one that fell far short of its target of Moonbase One, before its chemical tanks ruptured and their volatile contents came in contact with its energy source. The ensuing explosion utterly obliterated the skyscraper-sized weapon and tore through Spiralis in a deadly wave, wiping the city off the face of the planet… and spreading from there._

 _Spiralis was not the only victim of the Annihilator's meltdown. Its neighboring cities - Helex, Vos, and Digilex - were the next to go, flooded in a deadly wave of vaporized corrosives and superheated energy that melted buildings and spread toxic flames through the wreckage. Tarn and Altihex were almost completely destroyed by the devastation; Tesarus and Ultivex melted into slurry. Kaon and Polyhex escaped complete destruction thanks to their distance from the disaster's epicenter, but still suffered heavy damages. City after city fell to the wave, leaving a swath of death and suffering in its wake._

 _To the Decepticons, it was the blackest day of the war. To the Autobots, it was victory… but a victory that left a foul taste in its wake._

 _Optimus Prime knew nothing of what would come to be known as the Spiralis Disaster at the time… but hours later he viewed the footage of the catastrophe on Teletraan-1, surrounded by his officers, a dread silence hanging over the gathering as they watched the chaos unfold._

 _Prime barely managed to suppress a shudder of revulsion as he watched yet another building collapse on the screen. Before today, Megatron's obsession with bizarre and fantastic weapons had been almost amusing, albeit something he still took seriously. Now, when that obsession proved to be the Decepticons' undoing, he felt only sick and horrified._

" _Primus beneath our feet," Ratchet muttered, finally breaking the silence. Prime knew that as terrible as he found this disaster, it had to be even worse for a medic to witness._

 _A readout beneath the main screen blinked, and Prime finally tore his gaze from the madness of the video to read it. He almost wished he hadn't - it was a report on the "developing situation" from Moonbase One, delivering a dry but no less brutal summarization of the disaster._

 _DECEPTICON SUPERWEAPON HAS MALFUNCTIONED. TOXIC ENERGY WAVE CONTINUING TO SPREAD. DESTRUCTION OF DECEPTICON CITIES AND TERRITORIES: UNKNOWN, ESTIMATED AT SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT. DECEPTICON DEATH TOLL: UNKNOWN, ESTIMATED TO BE IN THE MILLIONS. AUTOBOT AND NEUTRAL DEATH TOLL: UNKNOWN, ESTIMATED TO BE 500 TO 1000 MECHS. MORE INFORMATION WILL BE PROVIDED AS SITUATION PROGRESSES._

 _The Matrix burned coldly in Prime's chest, as if it were disgusted by these statistics. He pressed one hand to his chest, an action that did nothing to ease the artifact or suppress the flood of emotion in his spark. Never mind that most of the victims of the destruction had been Decepticons, the supposed enemy - the news still filled him with horror._

" _Prime… orders?" Prowl asked, his voice level but soft. "What do we do now?"_

 _Prime was silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts and doing his best to still his turbulent emotions before speaking. "Prepare our troops. As soon as the situation stabilizes, we're returning to Cybertron."_

" _Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Silverbolt._

 _Prime nodded. "This is a disaster, plain and simple… and we will treat it as we would a disaster on Earth or any Autobot-controlled world. We will search for survivors, offer relief, and do our best to clean up. I doubt the Decepticons will put up much of a fight at this point - if anything, they may even be grateful for the aid."_

" _That's a big maybe," Ironhide noted, though even he sounded subdued by what they'd just witnessed._

 _Prime didn't reply, only returned his gaze to the screen. This was not the victory he had hoped for… this was a tragedy, plain and simple. And while other Autobots might rejoice that Megatron's latest plan had all too literally blown up in his face, Prime grieved at the terrible price Cybertron and its people had paid for his arrogance._

* * *

No matter how many times the buzzer announcing breaks and the end of the school day went off, it still made Caliber jump when he heard it. And today was no exception - he yelped and nearly leaped out of his seat, clutching Purple to his chest. A few students snickered at the sight, but quieted down when the teacher gave them a stern look.

"All right, you're all dismissed for morning recess," Chainsaw told them. "We'll start our math lesson when you get back. Please line up and leave the classroom in an orderly fashion…"

That request went entirely unheard as the students stampeded out the door and made for the courtyard. Zinc led the pack, while Paddles shoved her way through the mob in an effort to beat the yellow sparkling to the door. Orion and Rhapsody clung to each other's hands as they ran, as if by sticking together they could avoid being trampled in the mad rush.

Chainsaw sighed and shook his head as the last student made for the playground… or rather, the next-to-last student. It took him a moment to notice that Caliber hadn't even left his seat.

"Caliber? Recess has started. You can go out and play."

Caliber gazed out the door, then slowly slid out of his chair and walked toward the door. He stood at the threshold and peered out at the playground, where dozens of sparklings clambered over the climbing set, threw balls and flying discs around, or huddled together in groups to play their own private games. The sight of so many sparklings in one place still bewildered him, and he wondered if he would ever get used to the sight.

The teacher gently nudged him between the shoulders. "Go on, little one. Go play. Make some new friends."

He clutched Purple to his chest and ventured onto the playground, one hesitant step after another. Chainsaw watched him for a few more moments, then shut the door behind him.

This was his third day at school, and while he still felt nervous around other sparklings, some of the fear of coming here had drained away. It helped that there were still familiar faces here - Zinc, Rhapsody, Paddles, Soar, and of course Orion, who was rapidly becoming a good friend. But aside from getting off to a bad start with the registrar, the adults were kind to him, helping him get settled without coddling him like a newbuilt. His teacher in particular seemed to recognize a child still trying to find his bearings after life-changing upheaval, and gave him the space he needed to get settled.

And to his surprise, he found he enjoyed learning. He'd had a few lessons under his father's care, but those had been hurried affairs, snatched whenever possible during their flight. Being able to sit down and read without constant interruption, to learn in an environment designed for that purpose, was new and exciting to him. And while Orion complained about having to take assignments home, he didn't mind it so much.

He watched Orion and Zinc scrambling up the ladder for the slide, then wandered off to a quieter corner of the courtyard. He felt most comfortable around those two, even if Zinc was bossier than he liked, but he wasn't in the mood for the slide right now. And he couldn't shake the feeling that they saw him as a pest for following them around on the playground at every recess. They never said so out loud, but the feeling persisted nonetheless.

Soar crouched in one corner of the yard, ignoring every other sparkling as he amused himself with a pile of colored plastic chips. Said chips came from a game he'd occasionally played with Orion and Rhapsody, but Soar seemed intent on playing with them by his own rules. Though it wasn't so much "playing" as it was arranging the chips in neat rows according to color, forming a grid of sorts on the metallic ground.

Caliber ventured over to sit beside Soar, watching him work. Soar didn't even acknowledge his presence, too intent on his own diversion, but he didn't give any sign that he wanted to be left alone either. It was as if he were in his own little world, and there was no room for anyone else in it.

On a whim Caliber picked up a chip of blue plastic and held it out to Soar. The blue sparkling didn't even look up, but silently took the offered chip and laid it in its corresponding row. That set the pattern, and Caliber would hand him chips and watch him arrange them. Occasionally Soar would point to a row that he felt needed lengthening, and Caliber would sort through the pile for the correct color.

It was an odd game… but it seemed to satisfy Soar. And Caliber found it oddly peaceful. He could grow used to this...

"Bombs away!"

A ball slammed down between the two sparklings, landing in the middle of the chips and scattering them in all directions. Soar stared down at his wrecked handiwork in complete bafflement, then began to keen loudly and rock back and forth, wings twitching in distress. Caliber opened his mouth to say something he hoped would comfort him, but before he could get a word out a shadow fell over the two of them.

"Whoops, did we mess up your game? Sorry." The tone in that voice suggested that the speaker wasn't remotely sorry, and in fact took a perverse enjoyment in spoiling Soar's private game. "Who's your friend, little weirdo?"

Caliber looked up at the speaker - and felt ice settle in his tanks. This was the biggest sparkling he'd ever seen, even bigger than Paddles. His plating shone a metallic gold in the sunlight, trimmed here and there in emerald green, and his deep blue optics gleamed with malicious curiosity as they lit on the silver-and-violet sparkling.

"Who's your friend, Soar?" he repeated. "Gonna tell me? Or you not get your vocalizer working yet?"

Soar keened again and tucked his face into his knees, curling up in a ball as he rocked.

"Oh, you're sad now?" the gold sparkling cackled. "Go tell the teacher then." His attention turned to Caliber now, and too late he realized Soar's tormenter now had a fresh target. "You're a new one… what's wrong with you that you like hanging out with the weirdo?"

Caliber tried to squeeze out a retort - at the very least a demand that this mech leave Soar alone, he hadn't done anything to bother him - but no sound would emerge from his vocalizer. He just squeezed Purple all the more tightly and took a step back. Maybe if he said nothing, he'd get bored and go away.

"Oh, I see." The gold sparkling grinned wickedly. "The mutes like to hang out together. Guess that makes it easy for the rest of us to know who the weirdos are." His optics rested on the griffon plush. "What's that? Is that your teddy bear?"

"No," Caliber replied, his voice a croak of fear.

"Oh, you DO talk! Kinda… why're you hanging out with the freak, then? Here, lemmie see that."

Caliber tried to yank Purple out of reach, but the gold sparkling snagged the griffon toy by one wing and began to pull. Caliber yanked back, and with a terrible ripping sound the wing came loose from the rest of the plush.

"Oops. Sorry. It was an accident." Their tormenter's tone of voice clearly indicated the opposite, however. "Thing was ratty anyhow…"

Caliber stared in horror at the ripped wing, then at the mutilated griffon. The embarrassed fear building in his tanks thawed and warmed to a burning hatred. He'd just hurt Purple… he'd ripped apart the last link he had to his father…

"Why're you shaking like that?" the golden mech demanded, oblivious to the glow of fury in Caliber's optics. "Are you that scared, you little weirdo-"

The rest of his taunt shifted into a scream as he was tackled to the ground.

* * *

"I told you enrolling him was a terrible idea!" Syntax shouted. "Everyone insisted he was harmless, but he didn't even last a decacycle before he attacked another student! Do you believe me now?!"

Elita didn't dignify the mech's crow of angry triumph with a response. She simply hugged the sobbing sparkling in her arms, rocking him to comfort him. She desperately wished the registrar didn't sound so smug at the moment - couldn't he wait until after they'd settled this whole situation before gloating over it?

"Calm down, Syntax," Alpha Trion ordered, folding his hands atop his desk and letting his gaze sweep over the mechs gathered in his office. "Scuffles between children happen much more frequently than we like, but that doesn't always mean they're the product of bad programming. Let's investigate this incident fully before we jump to conclusions."

Alpha's office was one of the more spacious ones in the Academy, but it still felt curiously cramped with the number of bodies currently occupying it. The headmaster remained at his desk, his expression calm, while Syntax stood to one side of the desk and occasionally paced back and forth as much as the floorspace would allow. Elita occupied one chair, Caliber curled up in her lap, while Soar perched on the edge of the other chair and rocked slightly as if about to launch himself into the air at any given moment. Grimlock stood beside his adopted son with his arms folded across his chest, while Caliber's teacher and the playground attendant remained near the door as if hoping to make a quick escape.

"Traction, you were supervising the playground at morning recess," said Alpha, nodding at the red femme. "Could you tell us what happened?"

"I'm afraid I didn't see most of it," Traction replied with a regretful shrug. "I had a child fall off the climbing bars, and I was trying to calm him down and get him to the nurse when the fighting broke out. All I saw was Sunflare on the ground, screaming, while Caliber was straddling and hitting him."

Elita flinched. She was no stranger to seeing sparkling spats turn physical - Pit, Zinc and Paddles exchanged fisticuffs so often that she questioned just how they could call each other best friends - but the thought of witnessing this fight chilled her. It didn't sound like a proper fight to her… more like a beatdown.

Alpha nodded. "Were you able to break up the fight? And was Sunflare hurt?"

She nodded. "Caliber stopped hitting him the moment I pulled them apart. Sunflare has some scratched paint, but nothing worse than that. I think he was more startled than anything."

"You see?!" Syntax roared. "He's violent! He needs to be thrown out of this school before he hurts another sparkling! The next one might get worse than a scratched paint job!"

"You want to expel him over a single incident?" Chainsaw demanded. "Even our worst students get three strikes! Does Caliber not get even that?"

"He has a past," Syntax retorted. "And I believe I've made my views on it clear."

Elita glowered at the registrar, hugging Caliber tightly to her chest. "You would have denied him a place at this school just because of who his sire was. Forgive me if I don't hold a very high opinion of your views."

"Calm down, everyone," Alpha urged. "We DID have another witness to this incident. Grimlock, can Soar tell us what happened?"

The Dinobot Commander unfolded his arms, lowering one to rest his hand on the sparkling's shoulder. "Soar is… what's the word? He doesn't speak."

"Nonverbal," Alpha provided with a nod. "Is there something physically wrong with his vocalizer, and can it be repaired?"

Grimlock rumbled softly. "Not broken. Just doesn't talk. Hasn't since he joined our family. But doesn't mean he's broken!"

"I never meant to imply that he was broken," Alpha assured him. "That makes it a little more difficult for him to offer his side of the story, however…"

"Not hard!" Grimlock countered, and he crouched down to address Soar on his level. "Did Caliber start the fight?"

Soar looked intently up at his father, then shook his head.

"There." He straightened up and glared defiantly at Syntax. "Sunflare started it."

"That's hardly a reliable testimony-" Syntax protested.

"True, but this would hardly be the first time Sunflare's picked on other sparklings," Traction pointed out. "I've caught him bullying plenty of other children, including Soar, and I'm sure he's done it at other times when I'm not looking."

Grimlock snarled more loudly now, and Elita felt a flash of gratitude that Sunflare was still in the nurse's office fussing over his scrapes. Not that she wasn't upset to find out Caliber and Soar had been victims of his bullying, but neither did she want to risk Grimlock losing his temper with the child.

"And do we have any evidence that Sunflare was tormenting Caliber?"

Traction wordlessly handed over the griffon plush - in two pieces. Caliber sobbed again, and Elita felt a pang in her tanks at the sight. Small wonder he'd lost his temper, when the toy more precious to him than anything else had been damaged.

"Oh dear," Alpha noted. "And this is Caliber's?"

"Yes sir," Chainsaw replied. "He carries it constantly. I haven't asked for him to leave it at home - it isn't a distraction in the classroom, and seems to help him cope."

Alpha nodded. "Then it appears that both parties are at fault for this incident - Sunflare for provoking the fight by damaging Caliber's personal property, Caliber for retaliating in an inappropriate fashion. I'm assigning no punishment to either of them outside of a verbal warning to not do it again."

Syntax jerked as if he'd been shot. "You can't be serious! Not punishing a child who'd attack another child just for ripping a toy? That's insane!"

"Children have attacked each other for far less," Traction muttered.

"Don't be flippant," Syntax snapped. "Am I honestly the only one here who sees Caliber for the violent troublemaker he is?"

"He's NOT a violent troublemaker!" Elita snarled. "He's a child who was pushed past the breaking point by a bully. Even the gentlest creatures will bite back if they're cornered or hurt."

"I concur," Chainsaw added. "Caliber has been nothing but quiet and well-behaved in my classroom. I see no reason to believe this is anything other than an isolated incident."

"Then this meeting is over," Alpha replied. "Syntax, return to your office - and don't roll your optics at me. Elita, Grimlock, thank you for your time."

"Keep that Sunflare brat away from my son," Grimlock growled, and he scooped Soar up and stalked out of the office. Elita paused long enough to collect the torn plush from Alpha Trion before following him out, still cradling Caliber close.

 _You should have expected this,_ she thought as she carried the sparkling out of the school building. _No child is immune to being bullied. And Caliber was going to face prejudice for his heritage sooner or later._ That did little to cool the anger in her spark, however - and some part of her wanted to hunt Sunflare down and force him to apologize at the very least…

Caliber stirred, then tilted his head to look up at her. "Did… did you get Purple?"

She nodded. "He's right here." She gently pressed the toy into his arms. "When we get home, we'll sew his wing back on. He'll be as good as new, I promise."

He relaxed a little at that. "Am I in trouble?"

"A little. We don't hit other mechs, even if they make us angry. If Sunflare or any other sparkling tries to pick on you, find an adult and tell them, okay?"

"Okay." He looked down at the sidewalk, then back at her. "Do I have to get down now?"

"Not if you don't want to. I don't mind holding you if it makes you feel better."

Caliber stared at her as if not quite believing her. "Carrier never held me. Daddy did, but… not Carrier."

Several emotions burst through her spark at those words - anger and disgust at Shockwave, and renewed pity for Caliber… but also a sense of clarity. Small wonder he had been so aloof with her - he expected all carriers to be cold and distant. Had the poor child's upbringing really been that loveless?

 _Not quite… he says his father held him. And Prime says Megatron sacrificed a great deal to keep him alive._ Thinking of Megatron as a loving, attentive parent was going to take a lot of getting used to… but what about this situation didn't?

Caliber refused to let go of her the entire way home, and even demanded to be held for a little longer when they reached the apartment. She was more than happy to oblige, however. It might not make up for the lack of affection in his early childhood, but it couldn't hurt anything either.

* * *

"I can't imagine the Council is happy with how often you visit me," Megatron noted, smirking as Prime took his customary seat across from him in the interrogation room.

"There are certain matters I defer to the Council," Prime replied. "This, however, is not one of them. I feel it's only fair to keep you updated on how Caliber is doing."

Megatron said nothing… but Prime knew his old foe well enough to recognize the gratitude in his optics. They both knew that Megatron had surrendered all claim to his son, and that Prime would be fully justified in leaving him to rot without ever learning what had become of the sparkling. Perhaps Megatron had even expected as much.

But Prime had no intention of being that cruel. Despite all Megatron had done, he held no grudge against him. And he felt it was only fair to let him know how Caliber fared.

"We've enrolled him in school," he told him. "His teacher informs us he's doing well. He's a little behind in some of the basics, but is catching up fast."

"Are you implying I neglected his education?" Megatron snapped.

"I never said that," Prime replied. "If the information you've given us on his date of emergence is correct, he didn't even receive his first upgrade until after the Spiralis Disaster. And given what happened afterwards, it's only fair to assume circumstances weren't ideal for teaching him."

Megatron's optics flashed, and Prime felt a little guilty for prodding at what surely had to be a raw wound for the Decepticon leader. After the failure of the Annihilator and the resulting destruction of so much of the Decepticons' forces and territory, his reign had collapsed with frightening speed. The empire he had spent millennia building and enforcing had shattered within the space of a few years, and he'd gone from one of the most feared warlords in history to a hunted fugitive… a fugitive with a sparkling in tow.

And though others might find it impossible to believe - and Megatron himself might deny it - Prime knew that even the Great Slagmaker had to carry an enormous amount of guilt at the many deaths caused by the Spiralis Disaster and its aftermath. Perhaps that played into his decision to surrender in the end, instead of going down in a firefight.

"He's a bright young mech," Prime went on. "And he enjoys his classes. He's making friends with a few sparklings close to his own age as well." He thought it best to not discuss the incident with the bully - it had already been handled, and there was no sense in angering Megatron into doing something stupid like attempting a breakout.

Megatron was silent for several minutes. Prime had opened his mouth to speak again when the silver mech finally responded.

"This… prosaic sort of life is not the one I planned for him," he said thoughtfully. "But perhaps it's the one he deserves."

Prime wasn't sure how to interpret that statement, and so decided to leave it be for now. "There is one other thing. Caliber made a request last night - he wishes to visit you."

Megatron arched an optic ridge. "I can only assume you told him no. After putting in all this effort to raise my son as your own, why would you want to risk losing him to the one mech who could corrupt him beyond repair?"

Prime shook his head. "Just because I'm raising your son doesn't mean I want to cut him off from his past. He has every right to maintain contact with his father… if he wishes it. And as he's made his wishes clear, I intend to honor them. Unless you object…"

"No!" Megatron blurted, then composed himself and spoke more calmly. "No. I do not object. But I sincerely doubt it will happen - your precious Council certainly isn't going to allow it to happen."

At that, Prime had to chuckle. "You seem to think I'm going to bring it before the Council in the first place." And at Megatron's baffled expression he stood and turned to go, gesturing to the guards to return the prisoner to his cell.


	10. A Secret Visit

Caliber.

 _That was the only thought to pulse through Megatron's CPU as he limped back to Shockwave's tower, his armor splotched with corrosive burns from his narrow escape at Spiralis. Thoughts of his son dominated his processor, obliterating all else, even the pain of his wounds. The weapon and its devastation meant nothing at the moment. Only ensuring Caliber was safe mattered._

 _Polyhex lay far enough from Spiralis that it had escaped complete destruction from the Annihilator's meltdown, but the devastation was still sickening to behold. Entire sectors of the city had either melted to slag or collapsed into rubble due to their foundations dissolving out from under them, and even buildings still standing bore gaping holes. Medevacs swarmed the streets, recovering and treating the injured, but even from the sky Megatron could tell they were hopelessly overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the disaster. Even Shockwave's tower hadn't escaped unscathed - patches of metal near its base had been eaten away, and construction drones clustered around the damaged areas in an effort to mend them before they compromised the tower's safety._

 _Even the mechs flanking Megatron, escorting him to the tower, were terrible reminders of what the Annihilator had wrought. Soundwave had gotten away with only minor splashes on his legs and chest, but Stormrunner, a black-and-silver Seeker, was so badly burned and scarred that she seemed to stay airborne only by sheer force of will. Starscream somehow managed a smug "I told you so" expression even with one arm and one wing eaten away by the corrosive wave, while Piston stared straight ahead with grim determination, heedless of the burns marring his legs and torso._

 _At last they touched down on a balcony of the tower. Stormrunner collapsed immediately, her strength and grit finally failing her. Soundwave looked to Megatron as if requesting his permission, and at the warlord's terse nod he crouched by her side and worked to stabilize her. Piston strode into the tower itself, and Megatron strongly suspected that the chemist would have gathered his family and fled Cybertron - and the fallout of the Annihilator's failure - within the next breem. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to be angry over that._

" _I TOLD you this was doomed to fail!" Starscream rasped, clutching the stump that remained of his right arm. "Staking our future on your pet superweapon has never worked in the past. What in blazes made you think it would-"_

 _Megatron slammed his fist into the Seeker's mouth, then turned on his heel and strode into the tower without a backward glance. He was in no mood for his subordinate officer's cheek today._

No matter how right he may be, _a nagging voice in his processor taunted. He shoved that voice away and continued onward, but it settled into the back of his CPU anyhow, along with a dozen other thoughts that threatened to crowd forward and overwhelm him._

Caliber… focus on Caliber… he's all right… he has to be all right…

 _Normally only Shockwave occupied the command center of his tower… but today it was packed with Decepticons, all clamoring at the tops of their vocalizers. For a moment they were so caught up in demanding an explanation from Shockwave that Megatron's entrance went entirely unnoticed. It wasn't until he was at the violet mech's side, ready to demand an update of his own, that someone spotted him._

" _YOU! This is your fault! You did this!"_

 _Of all the mechs to come charging across the command center, fists raised and fury blazing in their optics, he hadn't expected Skywarp. The goofy, devil-may-care Seeker closed the distance between them, and would have driven his fist right into Megatron's jaw had Thundercracker not yanked him back._

" _Skywarp, stop! Get ahold of yourself!"_

" _My parents were in Helex!" Skywarp screamed. "You killed them! I was loyal to you for VORNS and in return you kill my family! Go to the Pit, you bastard!"_

 _Every mech present stared at Skywarp in utter silence, fully expecting Megatron to vaporize him on the spot for his words. And had circumstances been different, the Decepticon commander just might have raised his cannon and seared a hole in the Seeker's chassis for his insults and attempt at violence, or at least beat him to the floor. But he stayed his hand._

" _Stormrunner survived the destruction of Helex," he stated, and was surprised at the exhaustion in his own voice. "Soundwave is escorting her to the repair center."_

 _Skywarp's optics flashed, and he vanished in a flicker of violet light. Thundercracker hesitated, but at a gesture from Megatron he bolted from the room, no doubt making for the medical center himself._

" _Shockwave…" he began._

 _As always, Shockwave seemed to anticipate just what Megatron wanted. "Caliber is in his room, recovering from his first upgrade. He's recharging at the moment-"_

 _Megatron turned on his heel and strode out, ignoring the clamor of voices demanding to know just what the frag was going on and what they were supposed to do about it. He knew they were expecting an explanation, that they wanted to know just how the frag the Decepticons were supposed to rise from this disaster and keep fighting… but he couldn't do that now. Not until he could see with his own optics that his son was okay._

 _Caliber lay quietly in his berth, his favorite plush toy tucked under his chin as he drowsed. Elegant headfins framed his rounded face, and his new silver-and-violet armor, thicker and stronger than that of his newspark chassis, gleamed softly in the dim illumination of the room's security lights. He was no longer tiny enough to settle in Megatron's hands, and he felt a slight pang at that - he felt he hadn't gotten to hold the child nearly enough, and now he'd never hold him in his newspark chassis again._

 _He knew he shouldn't disturb Caliber's rest, especially after an upgrade, but he couldn't help himself. The sparkling squeaked and stirred against Megatron's chest as he scooped him up in his arms._

" _Daddy?" he murmured, voice still thick with sleep._

" _Caliber…" He tucked his face against the side of the sparkling's helm, the warmth of his chassis oddly soothing after everything that had happened. "I'm here… I'm here, and I won't leave you."_

 _It was a promise he knew he had no way to keep… but it served as a bulwark, however temporary, against the horror of the day and the dread of what was to come._

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Prowl noted.

Prime turned and arched an optic ridge at his tactician. "I thought you saw it as the best course of action."

"That doesn't mean it's still not a bad idea," Prowl replied with a frown. "You do realize the Council won't be happy when they learn you planned this without consulting them."

"I fully expect them to pitch a fit when they learn about this," Prime admitted. "But I'm willing to put up with their displeasure for Caliber's sake."

Prowl's gaze moved to the sparkling, who fidgeted nervously in place and clutched his stuffed griffon tightly to his chest. Caliber looked up at Prowl with wide golden optics, then scooted closer to Prime's side.

"Prowl's not THAT scary," Prime assured him, reaching down to pat his helm. "He may look like a grump, but he doesn't bite much."

"Your vote of confidence is reassuring," Prowl huffed, though Caliber managed a little laugh at his foster father's comment.

The unlikely trio waited in one of the visiting rooms of the Kalis Correctional Facility, a small but well-lit room meant for low-risk prisoners to reunite briefly with family members and close friends. It had never been designed with a maximum-security prisoner like Megatron in mind, and so Prime's announcement to Warden Bastille that the former commander should be allowed a visit from his son had sent the entire facility into a frantic scramble. The windows had been paneled over with thick steel plates, and a double set of guards had greeted them upon entry. And Prime had no doubt that Megatron himself would be accompanied by an entire squad of guards when he finally made his entrance.

 _Noble of them to take precautions,_ he thought. _Though if Megatron intended to escape, he would have made his attempt by now._ As incredible as it seemed, the Great Slagmaker had apparently accepted his new role as a prisoner.

But even prisoners had rights… and even Megatron was entitled to a visit from his family, Prime felt. And while many might argue that such a decision was reckless, even dangerous, he thought otherwise. Caliber still harbored affection for his father, and denying him the right to see his father would be cruel and sparkless. Not to mention that forcibly separating the two would only breed resentment further down the road.

"Optimus?"

Prime looked down at the sparkling clinging to his leg. "Yes, Caliber?"

"How much longer?" He pressed insistently against his leg as if trying to fuse himself to the Prime's armor, but his gaze was locked on the door at the far end of the room.

"I don't know, little one," Prime admitted. "But hopefully soon."

"They have to complete security protocols before he can be admitted," Prowl added. "Searching him for hidden weapons, informing him of the penalties should he attempt violence or-"

"Thank you, Prowl," Prime interrupted firmly. That was information Caliber really didn't need at the moment.

The door hissed open, admitting a cluster of mechs - four guards who fanned out to the corners of the room, and Megatron himself. For the first time since his capture, the silver mech stood before Prime uncuffed, though he bore a transformation lock on one shoulder. Prime felt a twinge of gratitude at that - he'd had to fight Bastille long and hard to keep Caliber from seeing his father in chains, and though the guards had been a necessary concession to appease the warden, they were worth it in his mind.

Caliber gasped, and Megatron's gaze snapped to the sparkling. Prime saw the fight to maintain his composure on his former foe's faceplates - the clench of his jaw, the tightening of his brow - but there was no mistaking the brightness of his optics.

"Caliber." One word, soft, yet heavy with meaning.

The sparkling let go of Prime's leg and rocketed across the room. He smacked into Megatron's legs and clung tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Caliber…" Megatron bent down and pried the sparkling's arms off.

"Megatron…" Prime began, frowning. After all the trouble he'd gone through to arrange this visit, was Megatron going to sabotage it by pushing his son away? Perhaps he saw it as some kind of cruel kindness - breaking his spark to save him further pain down the road - but Prime had been under the impression that he wanted this visit as much as Caliber had...

But he'd misjudged the mech - he pulled Caliber away only long enough to kneel down to his level, and didn't resist as the sparkling flung his arms around his neck and tucked his face into his shoulder.

"Daddy… I missed you…"

"I'm here," Megatron murmured, resting a hand on the sparkling's back. "I'm here." He paused a long time before speaking his next words, so softly Prime had to strain to hear. "I missed you as well, little one."

Prime's optics burned, and he blinked his optic shutters furiously in an attempt to maintain his composure. He should keep a recording of this meeting as proof against a Council inquiry. If they got wind of this and tried to call a halt to these visits, it would serve as evidence that this reunion was not only harmless to Caliber but long overdue.

Megatron finally pulled Caliber away and inspected him at arm's length. "My son… are they treating you well?"

Caliber nodded. "I'm staying with Optimus an' Elita. They're nice. And Orion's my friend. We go to school together, and he's teaching me new games."

"Good… good." He studied the sparkling for a long moment, as if searching for some kind of proof that he was being neglected or mistreated in the Autobots' care. "I had so much I wanted to say to you… but now none of it seems important. I'm just grateful to see you again."

Caliber sniffed and pressed against Megatron's chest, tucking his helm under his chin. "I'm just happy to see you too."

Movement out of the corner of his optic caught his attention, and he turned to see one of the guards shifting restlessly from foot to foot. The other three remained still but seemed just as bored with the proceedings. Either they'd expected more excitement than this or hadn't anticipated this meeting lasting longer than a few minutes.

"You're dismissed," Prime told them. "Prowl and I have the situation covered."

"With all due respect, sir," one guard replied, "we're under strict orders not to let the prisoner out of our sight."

Megatron snorted, not looking up from the sparkling in his arms. "You honestly thought I'd hurt my own child? Or worse, use him as a hostage to escape? I may be a monster, but I'm not THAT sort of monster."

The guard opened his mouth to retort, but a glower from Prime silenced him.

"A compromise, then," Prowl suggested. "Four guards seems excessive under the circumstances. Two of you may be dismissed without substantial risk."

The guards exchanged hesitant looks. Then, with nods and some signals Prime couldn't interpret, they seemed to come to an unspoken agreement. Two of them slipped out while the other two shifted positions to cover the room's exits.

Gratitude flashed across Megatron's faceplates, almost too fast to see. Prime let the mech cling to what remained of his pride and didn't point it out. Father and son would see their time together come to an end all too soon - he wouldn't interfere and waste precious moments.

* * *

Orion and Caliber thought their nightly visits to each others' bedrooms were their own secret, but the truth was that Elita knew they'd been sneaking into one bedroom or another after being put to bed for some time now. She simply chose not to make a fuss of it, either by insisting they keep to their own bedrooms or suggesting they just share a room from this point forward. It was harmless, she figured, and ensured they still spent time together while still maintaining their own private spaces.

Tonight it wasn't just the two of them, however - Ravage huddled under the blanket tent with them, lapping at a cube Orion had smuggled into the bedroom as the two sparklings pumped him for information.

"How's Uncle 'Wave?" asked Caliber. "I got to visit Daddy today, but Optimus said I wasn't allowed to visit 'Wave yet."

 _He's doing well,_ Ravage replied, licking energon from his chops. _He asks about you quite a bit. When he heard what you suffered at the hands of that bully, it took all of us cassettes to convince him not to break out and teach him a lesson._

"That would have been so COOL!" Orion gushed. He was still upset that he'd managed to miss Caliber's encounter with Sunflare - he would have protected him! Though seeing a Decepticon storm the playground to put the fear of Primus in that bully would have been awesome…

 _It would have been a disaster,_ Ravage corrected. _People are still afraid of anything that stinks remotely of Decepticons. Soundwave showing up would have just scared them enough to possibly kick Caliber out of school._

"Oh… that would have been bad." Still, Orion hoped to get a glimpse of Soundwave someday - he was part of Caliber's family, even if they weren't related by spark, and he sounded awesome.

"How's Rumble and Frenzy?" asked Caliber. "And Laserbeak and Ratbat? Have they been caught yet?"

 _Ratbat was captured,_ Ravage replied, lapping the last few drops of fuel from the cube. _He's younger than the rest of us, so he isn't as adept at avoiding the guards as the rest of us._

Orion shuddered. "Will he be okay?"

 _He'll be fine,_ Ravage assured him. _Cages and cells can only hold us so long. We tend to make a game of evading the guards for awhile before they recapture us. Besides, we don't like to be separated from Soundwave too long._

Caliber relaxed at that. "Does Laserbeak still miss Buzzsaw? Have you guys found him yet?"

Ravage's ears pinned back, and he lowered his head. _Yes… very much. And unfortunately, there has been no sign of him since Spiralis._

Caliber's optics dimmed with emotion, and Orion couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for the cassette. He didn't know all the details of the Spiralis Disaster - Dad only explained it as a terrible thing that had killed a lot of mechs - but he still hated that it had taken Ravage's cassette-sibling from him. Some part of him hoped that Buzzsaw was still alive somewhere, just lost or missing parts of his memory… but even as idealistic as he was, he knew that was unlikely.

"I'm sorry," Orion told him, reaching out to pat his head.

 _Not your fault… but thank you._ Ravage nuzzled against his hand. _You have your father's compassion. Just be careful not to hold it too close to the surface._

"What do you mean?"

 _You'll understand when you're older._ He nosed the bottom of the cube, as if looking for more fuel, then sighed and wriggled out from under the blanket. _I have to run… Rumble and Frenzy will worry if I"m gone too much longer. Take care of yourselves… and each other._

"We will," Orion vowed, lifting the blanket to watch the cassette-panther go. "You take care of your brothers."

Ravage gazed at Orion and Caliber for a long moment, enough to make both sparklings squirm. Then he nosed first Caliber in the chest, then Orion.

 _You take care of YOUR brother. Both of you._

"But… we're not brothers," Caliber protested, his face screwed up in confusion.

 _You might as well be. You come from different parents… but you share a strong bond. Family isn't always about whom you share programming with. If Soundwave can be part of your family, Caliber, so can Orion and his parents. Now… take care of your brother, both of you._

And with those words, he padded to the window and slipped out, leaving the two sparklings to stare at each other in wonder.


	11. From the Storm

Jazz, Grimlock, if you can hear me, please respond! Repeat, Jazz, Grimlock, respond! State your positions!

 _No answer. Prime set his jaw behind his mask and motioned for Prowl to guide the gunship deeper into the ruins of Kaon's suburbs. He was going to have both mechs' catalytic converters on a platter for this… once he'd found them and made sure they were okay, of course._

" _Scanners on full," he ordered. "Alert me the moment you find spark readings."_

" _Yes, sir," Prowl replied, shoving the throttle forward. He wouldn't say it aloud, but he was just as concerned over their missing officers as Prime was._

" _Frag those two," Ratchet muttered. "They better be okay, because I'm gonna kill them myself!"_

" _They'll be all right," Prime assured the medic, though the words were more to calm himself than Ratchet. "They're both smart enough to find shelter."_

" _They're both smart enough to know better than to venture out for more survivors in a frakkin' storm! Especially with all the chemical residue left over from that… thing blowing up! Do they WANT to come back with their faces melted like that fragging Illinois Jones movie?"_

" _Indiana," Prime corrected, "and they at least had the good sense to wear shielding. All the same, let's find them fast, before they're exposed any longer."_

 _Ratchet nodded grimly, and they returned their gaze to the wrecked city below, looking for any movement or sign of life._

 _The situation on Cybertron had been far worse than Prime had expected. Nearly half the planet had suffered at least some damage from the Annihilator's meltdown, and a vast number of Decepticon-controlled cities had either been entirely obliterated or were in melted ruins. Spiralis and its neighboring cities were just flat-out_ gone, _replaced by a still-seething plain of molten, bubbling metal. Many others still bore the skeletal remains of structures but were devoid of life entirely, while a precious few had suffered damages but hadn't been completely destroyed._

 _It was in these last few cities, as well as Autobot and neutral areas that had been affected by the damages, that Prime and his crew focused their relief efforts. The war turning against the Autobots had given them one small mercy - few Autobots had remained on the planet, which meant their casualties were kept to a minimum. More neutrals had been injured or killed, and the Decepticons… Prime feared that Teletraan-1's estimate of "several million" had been conservative at best._

So many dead… and worse, in a disaster that could have been prevented. Megatron… what have you done? _Prime's thoughts were heavy with anger and grief. Had his old foe just been willing to sit down and talk instead of fight, to resolve things without further oilshed…_

" _I've got life readings, sir," Prowl reported, looking up from the console. "At least two mechs, possibly more. It could be Jazz and Grimlock, or a cadre of survivors."_

 _Prime nodded. "Take us down. Try to avoid areas of excess contamination if you can."_

" _Yes, sir." He lowered the gunship on a broad, empty street, and Prime checked to be sure his protective armor was still in place before leaping down._

 _Kaon had been on the outer edge of the superweapon's blast radius, and while it had been extensively damaged by the disaster, it was still in much better shape than many other cities. As such, the Autobots had focused most of their energies here, digging through collapsed buildings for survivors and offering medical aid and relief to the displaced. Few of the Decepticons were in any mood to turn down help at this point - indeed, many were grateful, if vastly demoralized by what should have been the winning blow for their faction._

 _Prowl stepped out of the gunship, his white-and-black armor obscured under the dull gray of the chemical-resistant armor. "Readings came from this alleyway. I'm picking up two possible sites, both with multiple spark signatures."_

 _Prime's spark lurched. More than two… that meant survivors of the disaster. He motioned for Ratchet and Prowl to follow him and approached the alley, bracing himself for whatever they might find. The images of the disaster's victims were still fresh in his CPU - twisted limbs, melted faceplates, armor burned clear down to the deep frame - and he knew those images would stay with him for a long time to come. Whatever they found, he had a feeling it would be just as horrific…_

 _A sheet of scrap metal shifted, then lifted as a mech pushed it away from beneath. Said mech remained hunched over, gripping his chest as if badly wounded, but the confident, if pained, grin he flashed them identified him readily enough._

" _Jazz!" Prime broke into a run. "Jazz, are you all right?"_

" _Feelin' good, Prime," the saboteur replied cheekily. "If you were hailin' me, sorry for not respondin'. Th' storm took out my comm."_

" _What the frag were you thinking?!" Ratchet snapped. "You idiot, what were you hoping to accomplish by staying out all night with a windstorm blowing corrosives through the atmosphere?! Do you have a death wish…"_

 _His voice trailed off as he saw just what Jazz was hunched over - a small form that clung to his chest and trembled in fear. The sparkling pressed close to Jazz's chest, whimpering, her tiny body almost completely obscured by the chest plate of his protective shielding. Her limbs bore acid burns, but the rest of her body looked relatively unscathed._

" _Where did you find her?" Prime asked, softening his voice to avoid scaring the child further._

 _Jazz nodded at a nearby apartment complex, one that was listing dangerously to one side as the acid ate away at its foundations. "Her parents… didn't make it. They shielded her from th' worst of it with their own bodies. I… I couldn't leave her, an' she didn't want to leave 'em…"_

 _Prime cut Jazz off with a gesture. "You can deliver a full report when we get back. We'll give the sparkling a complete examination and determine where to place her."_

 _Jazz's smile faded, and he hugged the femme more snugly against his chest. "You can place her with me, Prime. I ain't leavin' her. Not now, not ever."_

 _Despite all the horror they had witnessed since returning to Cybertron, Prime couldn't help but smile a little. "We'll see what happens. For now, let a medic look at her…"_

 _A heap of rubble further down the alley shifted, and Prime jerked his gun up to aim as a wild-opticked creature rose from the detritus of the disaster. Not another one… they had faced plenty of wounded, pain-maddened creatures in the aftermath of the catastrophe, and too many of them had to be put down before they attacked the rescue parties. This one was huge, too, and possibly far more dangerous than the others…_

 _Then the creature shifted out of the shadows, and he relaxed and lowered his gun. "Grimlock! What are you…"_

 _Something stirred at the Dinobot's feet, and Prime stared in amazement as two sparklings emerged to stare at the Autobots in terrified wonder. Pieces of Grimlock's anti-corrosive shielding covered them like a makeshift shelter, and one look at the acid burns that marred Grimlock's back and shoulders told the whole story - he had not only shed his armor to protect them, but gone beast mode and shielded them with his own body during the storm._

 _Prowl gave Prime a long-suffering look. "The answer is no, right? They can't be allowed to keep them. Neither of them is fit to parent-"_

" _Get the sparklings aboard the gunship," Prime ordered, cutting the tactician off. "We'll decide where they're going once their injuries are tended to." Privately, however, Prime knew he would advocate for Jazz and Grimlock to remain the guardians of these little ones. If they were both willing to risk their lives to save the sparklings, then that spoke volumes in his mind._

* * *

Prime resisted the urge to sigh as he gazed down at the trio of sparklings gathered in the headmaster's office, each staring up at him with varying degrees of fear and defiance. It figured that the one day he decided to leave the Council to their own devices and come home early to surprise Elita, she would send him off to visit with the school officials regarding the boys' latest incident. When he had protested, she had only narrowed her optics at him and delivered a stern "it's YOUR turn."

At least he didn't have to do this alone, he mused. This latest incident had involved Rhapsody as well, and Jazz stood by Prime's side as he listened to Alpha Trion discuss what had happened. His arms were folded across his chest in a gesture of sternness, but his lip plates quirked as he fought to conceal his laughter.

"...and as much as I admire Orion and Rhapsody for being willing to stand up for their friend, we simply cannot have this happen again," Alpha Trion informed both of them. "We cannot tolerate this kind of behaviour in our school."

Prime gazed down at Orion, studying the magenta sparkling. Orion met his father's gaze with such a bold expression that he might have laughed under different circumstances. Despite the scratches and dents covering his armor, he showed no remorse for what had happened. Caliber, in stark contrast, cowered in his chair, and while the rag he held over his olfactory sensor to stem the leaking hid his expression, his optics glittered with fear. Rhapsody was somewhere in the middle - she frowned worriedly, but her optics gleamed with stern pride in what she'd done.

Privately, Prime couldn't help but feel a burst of pride himself. When Elita had informed him that Orion and Caliber had been involved in a fight at school, he had been mortified. But then he had learned the truth behind the scuffle - that a group of older sparklings had cornered Caliber and started tormenting him, and Orion and Rhapsody had happened upon the scene and dove in to defend him. The resulting fistfight had taken three teachers and a security officer to break up, and once the nurse was done treating the resulting injuries all those involved had been carted off to the headmaster.

"I'm letting them off with a verbal warning for now," Alpha went on. "But if there's another incident then I'm afraid we'll have to suspend them for a few days."

"Suspend 'em?" Jazz protested. "They were tryin' to protect another kid! What 'bout th' kids who were whalin' on poor Caliber?"

"Rest assured that they have been dealt with," Alpha replied. "Your children received a warning. They get no such grace period. Though I recommend you have a few words with your daughter regarding how best to handle such incidents in the future."

Jazz nodded, mollified, and knelt and held his hands out for his daughter. "C'mere, Rhap! You weren't hurt, were ya?"

Rhapsody dashed into his arms, clinging to him with relief now that was evident she wouldn't be getting in trouble. "I got some scratches, but not too bad."

"We'll go home an' polish those out," Jazz assured her, and he lifted her up and carried her out.

Prime smiled as he watched the unlikely duo leave the office. Ever since Jazz had found Rhapsody during the relief efforts those two had latched onto each other, and the young femme had practically been his shadow from that first storm-wracked night in the ruins of Kaon. The downside was that Jazz tended to spoil her outrageously, a habit that had turned her into what the humans called a "daddy's girl" but somehow hadn't ruined her sweet nature. He had no doubt that she'd get a gentle scolding and a night of sweets and vids when they got home.

"A word before you go, Prime?"

Prime nodded at Alpha Trion. "Orion, Caliber, wait outside for me."

Orion nodded, and he set a hand on Caliber's shoulder and guided him out of the office.

"I assure you this won't happen again, Alpha Trion," Prime told the old mech.

"I rather hope it doesn't," the headmaster replied, lacing his fingers together and resting them atop his desk. "Both for Orion's sake and Caliber's. I would advise you speak to your son about this, and the possible consequences it could have."

Prime frowned but nodded, reading the implications behind that statement all too clearly. Alpha nodded back, and Prime left the office, lowering his hands to let the sparklings take them and walk with him.

"Am I in trouble?" asked Orion, gripping Prime's left hand. Caliber took a moment to juggle the rag and his griffon plush and hold Prime's right hand at the same time, and finally settled for tucking Purple in the crook of the arm holding the rag to his face.

"A little bit," Prime admitted as they walked out of the school building. "I'm proud of you for standing up for Caliber, Orion… but fighting is not the answer."

"But they were hurting him!" Orion protested. "They knocked him down and were kicking dirt on him and calling him names! And making fun of his dad!"

Prime's spark chilled at that. He knew it was only a matter of time before knowledge of Caliber's origins spread among his classmates, but he had hoped they wouldn't treat him badly because of it. Evidently there were a few of them who had picked up their parents' prejudices, however.

"If that happens again, you need to find an adult and get help," Prime told him. "Not take matters into your own hands."

Orion's optics flashed. "But I have to help Caliber! He's my brother!"

Prime jerked his head around to stare at his son. "What?"

"We're brothers… right?" Caliber asked, his voice still muffled by the rag. "Even if we're from different creators?"

The chill in his spark thawed, and he had to stop in his tracks to better process the moment. He had feared for some time that Orion might resent Caliber for eating up his parents' time and attention, and treat him badly as a result. To see him accept Caliber so fully into his family that he called him a brother was an immense relief.

He knelt and nudged the two sparklings to stand in front of him. "I'm glad to see that you two care about each other. And I'm glad you want to protect him, Orion. But you remember who his father is, right?"

"Right… why?"

"Orion… if you use violence to try to defend your brother, people may think that you learned it from him. And they'll hate him even more for it. Because of that, it's best for everyone if-"

"He's not violent!" Orion insisted. "He's the nicest and quietest sparkling in class!"

"We both know that," Prime replied, "but those who don't know Caliber and only think of Megatron as a monster will assume otherwise. So next time, go find an adult, all right?"

Orion scowled, not liking this new rule one bit. But he nodded reluctantly.

"Does this mean I can't fight back if they hit me?" asked Caliber.

"If you think you're in danger of being badly hurt, fight back," Prime told him. "Otherwise… try to get away if you can, and try to call for help if you can't." He sighed deeply. "I wish I didn't have to tell you both to do this, but I have to think about what will keep both of you safe."

Caliber lowered the rag, wiping the energon from his face one last time. "Bein' a dad sounds hard."

"It is," Prime admitted. "I'm sure your father thought the same thing. But I wouldn't trade it for anything." He stood and offered his hands to the two of them. "Come on… let's go home. We might have time for a few games before refueling."

"Okay." Orion squeezed his father's hand, and Prime squeezed back as he led the two home. He had a gnawing feeling that this incident only marked the beginning of a rough period for Caliber, and it would be a very long time before he would be able to shake the stigma of being the son of Megatron. But at least he wouldn't walk this road alone… and at least he had Orion to watch his back.

* * *

"Don't look now, Prime, but we're being watched."

Prime wondered why Elita bothered saying those words, because the moment they left her vocalizer he looked up. A familiar winged silhouette perched on a window ledge overlooking the park, the scarlet pinpricks of his optics fixed on the sparklings at play below. Soundwave might be in prison, it seemed, but keeping all his cassettes under lock and key was proving difficult… and they were all taking their self-appointed mission to watch the son of Megatron seriously.

Prime knew he should be bothered by this - who knew what Soundwave might be planning regarding the heir of Megatron. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to interfere. Caliber considered Soundwave part of his family, and by all accounts it seemed the cassette-carrier and his cadre thought the same. If keeping a remote optic on the child satisfied Soundwave - and kept him from attempting a jailbreak - then so be it.

"Let him be," he advised, turning his attention away from Laserbeak. "He's not doing any harm."

Elita frowned. "I still don't like the cassettes hanging around… but I trust you." The tone in her voice indicated that he had better not be abusing her trust.

The two of them occupied a park bench near the playground, watching Orion and Caliber clambering up the park's climbing set. Zinc and Rhapsody perched at the top of the structure, calling out encouragement to both boys, while Paddles and Soar dug through a pit of plastine micro-beads nearby - the closest Cybertronians came to the human concept of a sandbox. This afternoon's playdate was going remarkably well, and it seemed that everyone involved was enjoying themselves.

And to Prime's pleasant surprise, today's playdate had a new member - Alpine. Hound and Mirage had finally judged the little one strong enough to come out in public, and the teal-and-white sparkling's optics were wide with wonder as he watched the other sparklings from the safety of his carrier's arms.

"He's not too cold, is he?" Mirage asked. "I have a thermal blanket if his temperature drops too low."

"He's fine, Mirage," Hound told him, taking a seat not far from Prime and Elita.

"Low energy levels? I brought fuel. And the supplements in case we're out too late and miss his dosage time."

"Believe me, he'd let us know if he's hungry," Hound assured him. "And being a little late on his supplements won't be the end of the world."

"Should we really be sitting here?" Mirage insisted. "We're rather close to the pit, and those sparklings could be kicking up too much dust. If it clogs his fans…"

"Mirage, he's just fine," Hound laughed. "A little dust isn't going to hurt him."

Mirage sighed deeply. "I just want him healthy is all."

"I know you do. Just don't worry TOO much, okay? Most sparklings get exposed to dust and low temperatures at some point and turn out perfectly fine."

Prime chuckled softly. Hound might consider Mirage too overprotective, but privately he thought it was a good sign that Mirage was so invested in their child's care. He would be a devoted parent, and Alpine was in good hands.

Alpine, meanwhile, squirmed in his carrier's arms, chirping softly, his optics fixed on the playground. Hound took the hint and carefully set the sparkling down.

"Hound, honestly!" Mirage yelped.

"Hey, a little walking practice is good for him," said Hound. "I won't let him get too far. And maybe he'll make some new friends."

"What if he gets caught up in their roughhousing and gets hurt?" Mirage fussed. "Or tries to climb and falls? Or gets into the pit and gets micro-beads in his vents…"

"He'll be an ordinary kid, in that case," Elita pointed out. "Kids trip and fall, scuff themselves, get foreign objects stuck in odd places, but somehow they survive despite all that. And usually they come out of those incidents a little wiser."

"Somehow that doesn't reassure me," Mirage grumbled, though Hound laughed.

Alpine toddled a few steps towards the micro-bead pit, wobbly but determined. Paddles looked up from the hole she'd been digging - a hole that looked almost like a den or a burrow instead of an ordinary hole - and cocked her head at the little sparkling. Soar glanced up, took the sight of Alpine in, and went back to his own digging, but Paddles' curiosity was piqued.

"Hi, lil' guy," she greeted, waving a hand covered in the dust-fine beads. "Where's your dad?"

Alpine cooed and stumbled to the edge of the pit, falling flat on his face in the beads. Paddles quickly helped him to his feet and brushed him off.

"Are you lost? Stay with us. We'll help you get found. I'm Paddles. This is Soar, my brother. He doesn't talk… kinda like you. But he's still super-smart. Soar, look, I found a baby! Think Dad'll let us take him home? Not to keep him, just to help find his parents."

Soar gave Paddles a look so thoroughly unamused that Prime nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter. The blue sparkling gave Alpine another look that clearly said "sorry about her, she's just like that" before he continued to scoop their hole deeper.

"Look, we're building a den!" Paddles proudly waved at their handiwork. "Like real dinosaurs might have! Our dads are Dinobots, right? They're awesome. Wanna explore our den?"

Alpine likely didn't understand a word of what Paddles said, but he gave an enthusiastic squeal anyhow.

"Don't let him in there!" Mirage called out. "It could collapse on top of him!"

Hound opened his mouth, but before he could respond to Mirage's concern an all-too-familiar sound tore over the playground - the roar of thrusters. Prime's internals clenched instinctively, a shock of mortal terror pulsing through his spark before he could still it. That was a sound far too many Autobots knew from the days of the war… for it heralded the arrival of the Decepticons' most deadly soldiers, the Seekers.

Mirage stood, but incredibly Hound was faster - he'd dashed out and snatched Alpine up in his arms before the spy could take one step. Jazz and Ironhide ran out to grab their sparklings as well, the two femmes confused as to what was going on but panicking because their fathers were. Grimlock, shifting rapidly to beast mode, cleared half the playground in a single powerful bound and promptly hunkered down atop the play-pit like a fearsome mother hen, tucking Paddles and Soar under his body.

Prime and Elita bolted onto the playground, and Prime scooped Orion up in his arms while Elita snatched Caliber. Rogue Decepticons were increasingly rare as the few remaining holdouts from the war either surrendered or declared a formal change in faction, but all the same Prime knew not all Decepticons were ready to lay down their arms and consider the war over. Why some of them would attempt a strike in the heart of Iacon in broad daylight he could only speculate, but there would be time for that after they'd taken shelter.

"Dad!" Orion clung to Prime's neck, optics bright with fear. "What's going on?"

"An aerial strike," Prime replied, his optics sweeping the sky in an effort to pinpoint their attacker. "Hold on, little one… we'll get you to safety."

"Fraggit, I thought we were done with this slag!" Ironhide bellowed. "Who's crazy enough to-"

"Wait!" Jazz shifted Rhapsody to one arm and pointed. "I don' think it's an attack!"

"It's a fraggin' Seeker, of course it's an attack!" Ironhide retorted.

"Seeker, all right… but she ain't wearin' sigils. Look."

Prime followed Jazz's gaze to the emerald-green Seeker who touched down at the edge of the park. At first glance she looked like so many of the Decepticon soldiers he'd faced on the battlefield - wickedly angled wings, vivid red optics, a form that spoke of speed and firepower and agility in the air. But no sigil, Decepticon or otherwise, graced her wings. Her arms were bare of weaponry, not even the armguns standard to Seekers, and her stance was graceful without the aggressive carriage typical of a fighting mech.

It was what she carried in her arms that most convinced Prime she wasn't here to fight, however - a purple and silver sparkling. Said sparkling was a bit taller and lankier than Orion and Caliber, probably into her pre-teen upgrade already, and her wide round optics were fixed on the Prime in an expression of wonder bordering on terror.

 _A neutral,_ Prime realized. _One of the Decepticons who defected soon after Spiralis._ Then, as recognition finally sank in, he recalled the name. _Windblade, one of Shockwave's scientists. Thundercracker's sister. They must have come home from the colony._

Windblade set the sparkling down and raised her hands. "I'm not here to make trouble," she assured those Autobots who still remained. "I was just taking my daughter out for a flight. She saw sparklings and wanted to see about making friends."

Grimlock bore his jagged dental plates in a snarl. "Don't trust Decepticons!"

"If you haven't noticed, we aren't Decepticons anymore," Windblade shot back, twitching her symbol-less wings in emphasis. "It wasn't my intention to frighten anyone… and I'm sorry for that. I forget that the sight of a Seeker is disturbing for a lot of Autobots."

"Apology accepted," Prime replied, finally allowing himself to relax as he set Orion down. "I only suggest you use more caution in the future. The next group of Autobots you frighten could be armed."

"Duly noted." She smiled a little, though she didn't relax entirely. The Autobot parents still stared at her distrustfully, and the sparklings were silent, waiting for something to break the tension but not willing to break it themselves.

Until Caliber finally spotted the newcomers, and gave a sharp gasp. "Glory?"

The older sparkling's optics brightened with recognition. "Caliber!" She broke away from her creator's side and dashed towards him. Caliber writhed in Elita's arms, and after a moment's hesitation she set him down, letting him run to greet the older sparkling.

Glory bent down to hug Caliber tightly, beaming with delight. "You're all right, Caliber! And you're so big now, look at you! When we heard about Shockwave's tower we thought…" Her voice trailed off, and Prime wondered just what she had heard about the destruction of Shockwave's headquarters.

"I missed you," Caliber replied, clinging tightly to her like a space barnacle. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"We left Cybertron… but we're back now! Hopefully to stay! You can meet my dad, and my uncles, and my brand-new cousin Zephyr! If it's okay…" She looked up at Windblade with a pleading expression.

"We'll talk about it later," Windblade assured her with a chuckle.

The unexpected reunion broke the spell, and Prime set Orion down to go meet the newcomer. Jazz, too, let Rhapsody drop to the ground and run over to be introduced. Ironhide hesitated a few moments longer, but Zinc wriggled free of his grasp on her own and dashed over, not wanting to miss out on meeting a new sparkling. Grimlock remained hunkered over his charges, and Paddles hissed mutinously as she tried to dig her way out from under him.

As the sparklings got acquainted (or reacquainted in the case of Caliber and Glory), Prime and Elita made their way to Windblade's side. The Seeker ducked her head, an apologetic expression on her faceplates.

"I'm sorry again for all this," she told them.

"Don't be," Elita assured her. "We're all still on edge even after all this time. Hopefully it will ease as time goes by." She offered Windblade an encouraging smile. "You worked with Shockwave, right? That would explain how your daughter knows his son."

Windblade nodded. "Glory spent a lot of time at the tower, and ended up spending quite a bit of time with Caliber when he was a newbuilt. She was fascinated by him, and worried about him constantly after we fled Cybertron. I hope she isn't overstepping her bounds."

"Not at all," Prime assured her. "He could use another friend, especially one from his earlier life." He chuckled as Alpine toddled over, not wanting to miss out on what looked to be great fun. "How fares your brother and his conjux?"

"Thundercracker's doing well. Skywarp… is still struggling. He lost his family in the Spiralis Disaster, and he's still grieving. But Zephyr's helped."

"Zephyr… their newspark?"

Windblade nodded. "She emerged small but healthy. I think she's the main reason Skywarp keeps going. He wants to be sure she gets the happy life he lost."

Prime watched the sparklings chattering and laughing together, marveling at how readily they had accepted Glory into their little group. He knew he had no way of knowing just how badly Skywarp was hurting over the loss of his family, but he could identify with his desire to give his daughter a better future. Perhaps that was the common goal that could unite Cybertron once and for all.


	12. Falling Empire

_At one point the Kruvex system had been little more than a mining outpost, a rocky world to be stripped of whatever minerals could be useful and then abandoned. In the days leading up to the Great War it had been one of the many worlds Megatron had visited to gather recruits, to spread word of his mission and round up the disaffected and angry in order to bolster his forces. During the war itself it had served as a military stronghold, housing troops and weaponry to unleash upon neighboring star systems at a moment's notice._

 _Now the remainder of Megatron's personal forces were gathering at the Kruvex base, nursing their wounds and taking stock of their numbers in the wake of the Spiralis Disaster. More Decepticons arrived on the planet every day, either refugees from a ravaged Cybertron or reinforcements from other outposts. Their numbers were distressingly small - Megatron had been consolidating his forces on Cybertron in order to make one final attack on the Autobots, leaving them vulnerable to Spiralis and its aftermath - and an aura of despair hung over every mech._

 _Megatron might insist that this was not a retreat, merely a reorganization of his troops… but every mech present knew the truth. The war was as good as over; anything Megatron ordered from this point forward would only be prolonging the inevitable._

 _The silver warlord was almost grateful to Thrust for barging into the command center of the Kruvex fortress, interrupting Soundwave's dry but devastating report on the state of their troops. Whatever news the rust-colored Seeker had to deliver, it couldn't be any worse than what he'd already heard._

" _Command center: off-limits," Soundwave informed the newcomer._

" _Let him speak," Megatron countered. "What is it, Thrust?"_

 _Thrust glanced back and forth between Soundwave, Starscream, and Megatron, as if judging whether or not it was worth speaking his next words. "General Deszaras has just arrived from Neo-Kaon with his battalion, sir."_

" _Finally, some good news," Starscream growled._

" _Not as good as it could be," Thrust replied. "Half 'em turned right around and took off the moment they found out how bad things were. But the General says you have his sword, Lord Megatron. He'll fight alongside you to the end."_

 _Megatron felt no satisfaction at knowing he had Deszaras' loyalty. If anything, the General was merely signing his own death warrant by pledging himself and his troops to a doomed cause. He knew this… and yet he didn't dare say it aloud. Despite the utter hopelessness of the situation, he was still too proud - or too much of a coward - to lose face among his troops by saying so._

" _Good," was all he said aloud. "Soundwave, find quarters for Deszaras' troops, and ensure any injured are treated."_

 _Soundwave nodded in reply. He knew the situation as well as Megatron, perhaps better, but refused to disrespect his commander by commenting aloud on it._

" _You have something else to say, Thrust," Starscream rasped. "Say it! Don't keep us in suspense."_

 _Thrust shot Starscream a glower, then spoke. "Megatron… we're leaving. Dirge, Ramjet, and me. There's a group of 'Cons off to try their luck on the neutral colonies, an' we're goin' with them."_

 _Had Thrust pulled such a stunt a mere quartrex ago, Megatron would have responded by clobbering him or even searing a hole in his chassis. But now he met the news with only a weary nod. He was surprised to find he felt no anger at Thrust's decision to defect. If anything, perhaps this choice made him the smartest of all the Decepticon forces._

" _Then go," he told the Seeker. "Leave now, before word of your defection reaches the rest of the troops and destroys morale further. Good luck to you, Thrust."_

 _Thrust's optics brightened with shock - evidently he'd expected to come away from his announcement missing a few pieces. Then he saluted, a rare look of gratitude crossing his faceplates, and hurried out._

" _You're just going to let him go?!" Starscream demanded. "One of our more competent Seekers? Do you honestly expect the Decepticon army to survive if you just let our most valuable soldiers-"_

 _Megatron backhanded the red-and-white Seeker, sending him crashing to the floor. "Another word out of you and I'll-"_

" _You'll what?" Starscream retorted, sitting up and wiping a thin thread of energon from the corner of his mouth. "Kill me? Dismantle one of your last surviving officers? Thrust may be worthless enough to you that you're willing to let him abandon his post, but you wouldn't dare destroy your Air Commander."_

" _Don't test me," Megatron retorted, though he knew all too well that Starscream was infuriatingly right. So many of their officers had been lost in the Spiralis Disaster that he couldn't afford to be rid of Starscream, despite his treachery and smart mouth. He was still useful… and still bore keeping a close optic on._

And yet you just let Thrust, who could have made at least a somewhat competent Air Commander, leave without issue, _part of his CPU complained. He dismissed that nagging voice. At this point there was a huge difference between killing a valuable soldier and letting them part ways of their own accord… even if he couldn't explain it to anyone else._

 _Starscream opened his mouth to give some kind of witty retort, but shut it again as another Seeker limped into the control room. The Air Commander grimaced and backed away a step at the sight of Stormrunner - her black-and-silver armor warped and twisted by the damages she had suffered in the Spiralis Disaster, half her face plates burned away to expose the delicate internal workings of her jaw. The untouched half of her face grimaced in pain, but her one good optic still burned with a determined light._

" _What is the meaning of this?" Megatron demanded. "You were assigned to remain on Cybertron!" Stormrunner and a number of other soldiers had remained behind in Polyhex to protect Shockwave's tower - at least one officer needed to remain on the planet to command the Decepticons that had stayed behind. Shockwave had volunteered, and both he and Megatron had decided it would be safer for Caliber to remain in Polyhex than accompany the soldiers to the Kruvex fortress._

 _And in all honesty, Stormrunner had been assigned to the tower for her own safety - despite emergency repairs to save her life, she still needed a lot more treatment before she was out of the proverbial woods. If Hook was to be believed, the journey from Cybertron to Kruvex could undo all the hard work he'd put into her repairs… which meant she might have just killed herself getting here._

" _Sir… there's news," she got out, her vocalizer choked with static. "Urgent…" Her optic flickered as she swayed on her feet, and only her grip on the doorframe kept her upright._

" _Soundwave, call Hook!" Megatron ordered. "Stormrunner, what news?" Dread congealed in his spark, but he refused to believe the worst had happened… that the only way a badly injured soldier would risk such a journey would be…_

" _The tower… it's been destroyed," Stormrunner coughed. "The Autobots… struck… without warning… happened so fast… couldn't send for help…"_

 _Megatron shook his head, as if to deny her words. This was impossible… there was no way the Autobots could have taken the tower! There were too few of them, weren't there? And they were too focused on their soft-sparked relief efforts to launch an attack, right?_

Evidently not… but it's all right. Shockwave would have seen the attack coming and evacuated with Caliber. My son is all right...

 _Stormrunner coughed again, fans catching, but pressed on. "Only a few survivors… but… Shockwave… didn't make it out."_

 _Horror clutched at his spark with icy claws. "Caliber…"_

 _Her voice, already weak, softened to a bare whisper nearly drowned out by static. "No… no sign of the heir. I'm… sorry…"_

 _Megatron clenched his fists. Caliber… his son… the child of his own spark… it couldn't be… it wasn't possible…_

" _So much for an heir to the Decepticon throne, O Mighty Megatron," Starscream sneered. "Perhaps if you'd been more concerned with making sure that blasted weapon was built RIGHT instead of producing spawn-"_

 _The rest of his taunt cut off with dual screams - his own cry of physical agony, and Megatron's howl of anguish as he fired his cannon point-blank at the Seeker. Only his lightning-quick flier reflexes kept Starscream from being vaporized completely, leaving him minus a wing and a chunk of his left side but still able to crawl away as Megatron went berserk. Soundwave, for his part, grabbed Stormrunner and carried her out of the command center, leaving the Air Commander to drag himself out under his own power._

 _Megatron barely noticed their departure - he continued to scream as he grabbed the table and flung it into the viewscreen on one wall, shattering it in an explosion of sparks. Not satisfied with that level of destruction, he raised his cannon and fired into the consoles, filling the room with smoke and the stench of ozone and burned circuitry. He screamed the entire time, screamed until his vocalizer sputtered and shorted out, and even then his own screams still echoed in his CPU and spark, drowning out all else._

 _Caliber was gone… and with that knowledge, there was nothing left for him to live for. No reason to continue on. He had gambled badly, and in the process lost not only the empire he had striven so hard to build, but the one mech he would have sacrificed his life for._

 _He had failed his son… and somehow that knowledge cut him deeper than knowing he had failed the Decepticons._

* * *

"Dad? Are you okay?"

Megatron shook his head, returning to the moment. No, this was no time to dwell on the past. He had plenty of time to do that in his cell. Now he had a few precious hours in the company of his son, and he would be a fool to waste it contemplating just how badly things had gone to get him to this point.

"I'm fine, Caliber," he told the sparkling, returning his attention to the game board. "Simply thinking."

At first Megatron had assumed that Caliber would tire of these visits - a prison was an intimidating place for a young sparkling, after all, and sooner or later he was sure his son would accept the Prime as his father and stop asking to see his sire. But Caliber gave no indication that he wanted the visits to end, and even began bringing games to occupy their time during said visits. Megatron, for his part, looked forward to these moments - moments that were all too short but a welcome respite from the monotony his life had become.

They were hardly alone as they engaged in a game, however - Prime and Ironhide sat close by to monitor their visit. He should have been annoyed by their presence, but at least they gave the two of them space instead of hovering over their shoulders. And to be honest, had the situation been reversed, Megatron would have done the exact same thing… had he allowed such a visit at all.

"What are you thinking about?" Caliber asked, cocking his head to one side. "You weren't thinking about your next move. You got that lost look in your optics… like you're remembering something sad."

Megatron sighed. He made it a habit not to lie to his son, but it would have been difficult to do so anyhow - he was extremely observant and could pick up on others' expressions and body language. And despite being a sporadic influence on Caliber's life so far, his son knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was hiding something.

"Your carrier," he replied at last, picking up the dice. "The last time I heard from him… and learning that he was dead, and that I nearly lost you at the same time."

"You thought I was dead?"

"For a few days." He rolled the dice and moved his figure. "But somehow, despite everything… you survived."

"Is that why you cried when you saw me again?"

Ironhide choked with laughter at that. Megatron raised his head to glower at the Autobot, but the red mech didn't even have the good grace to look apologetic. Prime just gave Ironhide a look of exasperation, though his optics glinted with amusement.

"Did I say something wrong?" Caliber asked, frowning.

"No," Megatron replied. "But perhaps we should talk about something else."

Caliber nodded. "Is it bad that I miss Carrier? He was… he wasn't as nice to me as Elita is, but… I still miss him."

Megatron scowled and handed the dice to the sparkling. Even as young as he'd been, Caliber recognized that his carrier had been aloof and cold, treating the raising of a child as just another task instead of with any sort of love and compassion. Just another mistake in the long list of mistakes Megatron had made in the last cycles of the war… though hopefully one of the few mistakes that could be rectified in some way.

"You are fully allowed to miss him," Megatron told him. "But don't let that stop you from accepting Orion's family as your own. They will treat you far better than Shockwave and I ever could have."

"But you're still my dad!" Caliber insisted. "You never treated me bad."

The child's words were meant as a compliment, but they still stung. No… he had treated Caliber quite cruelly, albeit out of neglect rather than actual malice. He should have surrendered the child to the Autobots the moment the war went south, not insisted on keeping him by his side as he scrambled to marshal the last of his forces, as he was finally forced to abandon everything and flee for his own life. Caliber had deserved far better than living as a fugitive.

"Do not let memories of the past block your view of the present and future," he said at last. "Do not forget those who created you… but do not let those memories interfere with your life now. Prime and his family have accepted you as their own. I hope you will accept them as well."

Caliber set his jaw in a stubborn expression Megatron knew all too well. "I can accept them and still accept you, though. You're family too."

 _Primus, I don't deserve this child,_ Megatron thought. Despite everything, he still loved his father, regardless of whether he had done anything to deserve that love or not. He only hoped that love would not someday be his undoing.

"Hate to cut this short, but th' warden's a stickler for visitin' hours," said Ironhide. "Might wanna wrap things up."

Caliber's face fell. "I don't wanna go."

"We'll be back next decacycle," Prime promised him. "But we need to obey the warden's rules if we want these visits to continue."

"Can we just finish our game?" the sparkling pleaded.

Megatron shook his head and moved his piece forward one more space. "No need. The game is over."

Caliber made a face. "You won again? Awwww… I'll beat you next time." He slid off his chair and moved around the game table to hug his father. "See you later?"

Megatron nodded, embracing the sparkling as long as he dared - he feared if he held on too long, he wouldn't want to let go. "Be good for Optimus, and for your teachers. I'll see you soon."

Prime stood and took Caliber's hand once the sparkling was back at his side. "You know, Megatron, you could always let him win a game or two. Not everything has to be a competition, especially with a sparkling."

Megatron managed to resist the urge to roll his optics at his old rival. "If I let him win, there is no satisfaction in the victory, and he learns nothing. Better for him to win by his own skills than by manipulation."

Prime looked like he wanted to argue that point, but decided not to. "Same time next decacycle, then. I'll look after him until then."

Megatron nodded, and stood to let his guards escort him back to his cell. His time with Caliber was all too scarce, and could be cut off at any time… but he would cling to it. Because at the moment, it was really the only thing he had left to live for.

* * *

Prime couldn't shake the feeling that this was a bad idea. But he'd come this far, and it seemed silly to abandon this task now. Besides, he had been the one to release the two Seekers on a sort of parole, and in a way they were his responsibility. He needed to check on them, if only to be sure they were settling in well.

Frankly, he'd been surprised to find the Beta Geode neutrals willing to return to Cybertron at all. Their leader, a cantankerous old war-mech named Bulldog, had long declared both Autobots and Decepticons to be little more than arrogant hypocrites, and had founded his colony in an effort to get away from what he saw was a war that would never see a peaceful resolution. He wasn't sure what - or who - had changed the ex-soldier's mind, but he wasn't about to complain. After the devastating war and just-as-devastating Spiralis Disaster, they needed every mechanism they could get to rebuild and restore their homeworld.

Of course, that also meant the return of Thundercracker and Skywarp… and given that those two had served directly under Megatron, albeit not as officers, Prime feared they would face harsh treatment on their return. Not to mention that Windblade and Piston had accompanied them as well, and given their role in the Spiralis Disaster, few mechs would be willing to greet THEM with open arms either. Their entire family was in a sticky situation, and he intended to smooth things for them as much as he could.

He rapped on the door to their apartment, then stepped back. He didn't have long to wait - the door slid open, and a pair of large red optics looked up at him from about waist-height.

Despite the foreboding feeling lingering in his spark, Prime couldn't help a small smile. "Hello, Glory."

"Hello, Prime," she replied, smiling in return. "Um… sir."

Prime chuckled. "There's no need for formalities, young one. Visiting your uncles, are you?"

"Uh-huh. I help babysit Zephyr a lot." She peered around Prime as if expecting him not to be alone. "Is Caliber with you? Or Orion?"

"The boys are off playing with friends at the moment," Prime replied. "But I'm sure you'll see them soon enough."

Glory brightened at that prospect. At least one member of the family had no problem settling in and finding friends on Cybertron - she had rekindled her friendship with Caliber and rapidly developed bonds with Orion and the other sparklings as well. She was somewhat older than most of them, but that didn't matter to kids - they all still played the same games and accepted one another readily, with no mind for appearances or parental factions.

That wasn't to say it had all been smooth sailing for her. The first time she and Zinc had crossed paths, Glory had made the mistake of asking "why are your parents so old?" Zinc had retaliated with an insult a sparkling her age had no business knowing, and the ensuing argument had resulted in a fistfight that had taken both Piston and Ironhide to break up. Windblade and Piston had been mortified, while Chromia and Ironhide had looked ready to crack up laughing over the whole affair.

Somehow, despite that inauspicious start, Zinc and Glory had become fast friends immediately afterwards. Prime had no idea how that had worked out, but had to accept the fact that there were things about sparklings he would probably never quite understand.

"Are your uncles home?" Prime asked.

"Uncle T's taking a nap," she replied. "Uncle Warp and I were playing a game. Want me to go get him?"

"I'm right here."

Prime glanced up, the chill in Skywarp's voice wiping the good-natured smile from his faceplates. Glory sensed the ice in the black Seeker's words and scooted away, leaving the two of them to face each other across the threshold.

"Hello, Skywarp," Prime greeted, inclining his head in a nod. "Welcome to Iacon. I apologize that Kaon and Polyhex are not yet rebuilt enough to resettle, but-"

"Why are you here?" Skwyarp demanded, optic shutters narrowing, arms folded across his chest.

"Just to check on you," Prime replied, holding his hands out in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. "To be sure you were settling in-"

"We're fine," Skywarp snapped, optics flashing. "I was under the impression that we didn't NEED checking on."

"You are both still on parole," Prime reminded him. "And despite the end of the war, there is still plenty of friction between the factions. I only wanted to be sure you hadn't encountered difficulties, and that you were following the rules of your-"

Skywarp seemed bound and determined to cut Prime off whenever he spoke. "We're _behaving,_ if that's what you want to know. And we're doing just fine without you sticking your olfactory sensor where it doesn't belong! So just go back to remaking Cybertron in your image or whatever it is you Autobots are up to now!"

Prime was suddenly glad Ironhide hadn't accompanied him here. The old-timer would have taken Skywarp's angry words as fighting words, and it would have made a terrible impression on Glory to see her uncle brawling with an Autobot right on their doorstep. Not to mention bad for Skywarp's chances at staying out of prison…

"Skywarp, what's going on out here?"

The black Seeker winced as Thundercracker appeared behind him, setting one hand on his shoulder. A small form was nestled in the crook of his other arm - a gleaming black newbuilt trimmed in royal blue, with dark red optics that bordered on maroon and curiously pricked headfins that looked almost like folded wings. Glory hovered at Thundercracker's side, and Prime guessed she had awakened the blue Seeker to alert him of what was going on.

"Ah… is this Zephyr, then?" Prime asked. "She looks well."

"She is, sir," Thundercracker replied, his tone even and respectful as he tried to pull Skywarp back. "Her spark's a little small for her age, but she's healthy."

Skywarp actually growled as he planted himself firmly between Thundercracker and Prime. "Stay away from her!"

"Skywarp, stop this!" Thundercracker demanded. "Prime's not here to take Zephyr from us! Slaggit, he's the reason we didn't have her in prison! Just calm down!"

"Don't tell me to calm down, TC!" Skywarp retorted. "I'm not losing her! Not like I lost my parents and everyone else!"

Prime sighed. This had been a bad idea from the start - he knew coming here that Skywarp had lost his parents and almost everyone he knew when Helex had fallen in the Spiralis Disaster, and of course he would be protective of his family. Perhaps TOO protective… but given how Decepticons and former Decepticons were still regarded with suspicion, perhaps he expected Prime to come here to break up their family.

A high-pitched cry drowned out whatever Skywarp had to say next as Zephyr wailed, her distress at seeing her creators so riled up reaching the breaking point. Thundercracker hushed her softly and held her to his chest, but she continued to fuss and squirm.

"My apologies," Prime said, stepping back from the threshold. "I didn't mean to upset her… or you. I won't bother your family again."

"You better not," Skywarp growled. "I don't care if you're the Prime, if you upset her again or put a hand on her I'll-"

"You're not going to do anything," Thundercracker told him, and he pulled Skywarp deeper into the apartment. Skywarp looked dearly like he wanted to get off one last parting shot at the Prime, but finally relented and let himself be led away, wings drooping.

Glory gave Prime an apologetic look before shutting the door. Prime nodded a farewell to the young femme before turning to go. Wounds from the war and its aftermath still ran deep, and no one had escaped the violence unscathed. He only hoped those wounds would heal with time, and that sparklings like Zephyr and Glory wouldn't find themselves scarred as a result.


	13. Pondering the Future

_If the aura of despair that hung over the Kruvex fortress had been tangible before, it became so heavy it was nearly crushing in the wake of the news that Polyhex had fallen to the Autobots. The knowledge that they had lost their capital - and the heir to the Decepticon throne, the young mech that had been a living symbol of hope for so many - just added to the weight. Any shred of belief that the Decepticons could rally their troops and rebound from their defeat was lost; now they could only brace themselves for the inevitable next blow._

 _The hallways were already oddly quiet, mechs talking in hushed tones as if at a memorial service, but even those whispers silenced as Soundwave strode past. It was as if no one wanted whatever rumors or complaints they dared speak aloud to reach the Communications Officer's audials, and from there reach Megatron himself. Understandable… though Soundwave knew that what his troops were saying behind his back was the least of their leader's concerns at the moment._

 _Megatron was slumped over his desk when Soundwave entered his quarters, head in his hands. He gave no sign that he noticed the blue mech's arrival, and only looked up when he set a glowing cube on the desk. His optics were dim and dazed, staring up at his CO as if trying to recognize him._

" _Energon: required," Soundwave told him, his voice firm but gentle. "Time since last refuel: three planetary cycles."_

 _Megatron gazed blankly at the cube, then shook his head. "No… not now. Leave me."_

" _Neglecting your requirements: unwise," Soundwave urged._

 _The silver mech gave a bitter laugh at that. "That's not surprising. It would only be the latest in a long line of unwise actions." He pushed the cube away. "Get out. Leave me alone."_

 _Another officer might have sighed in irritation at Megatron's obstinance, but Soundwave only ached for his commander. It had been three days since they'd received the news of Caliber's death, and in that time Megatron hadn't even left his quarters. Soundwave had done his best to keep the troops in order in his leader's absence - and to keep Starscream from taking advantage of the situation - but that didn't stop their commander's grief from bleeding out and affecting the entire base._

 _Soundwave, too, grieved for Caliber. He hadn't carried the sparkling, but he had spent so much time caring for him and watching over him that he had come to see him as a fond nephew. And knowing he hadn't been there to protect him when the Autobots destroyed the tower cut him to the spark. But he had to remain strong for the Decepticons and his leader - mourning had to be done in private._

 _He pushed the cube closer. "Keep it. Refuel when you wish." He paused a moment before speaking his next words, considering them carefully. "Available to talk when you're ready."_

 _Megatron didn't respond, but he made no move to push the cube away. Soundwave rested a hand on his shoulder, wishing he could do more to help him shoulder this burden, then turned to leave. There was still so much to do, and so few resources to do it…_

 _A commotion in the hallway outside Megatron's quarters made him pause, irritation cutting through the ache. Another fight must have broken out - an all-too-common occurrence anymore, with stress so high and tempers so frayed. He made a quick call to his cassettes to come help break things up before stepping into the corridor…_

 _Only to freeze, staring at the two Seekers who hurried towards him._

" _Commander Soundwave!" Thundercracker barked. "We need to see Lord Megatron now!"_

 _It took a second for Soundwave to regain his composure. Thundercracker and Skywarp had been assigned to Shockwave's tower just before the bulk of the Decepticons had fled to Kruvex… and had been MIA, presumed dead, in the aftermath of the tower's fall. But here they were - dented and scuffed but otherwise fine, pushing past a crowd of mechs who had gathered around to gawk or ask questions._

 _It was what Skywarp held in his arms that stunned Soundwave the most - a purple-and-silver sparkling, his armor scratched and dented, clinging to a stuffed griffon with all his strength as if it were a lifeline. Caliber's optics were wild with fright at his surroundings… but they fixed on Soundwave, and immediately calmed with relief at the sight of his old guardian._

 _The cassette-carrier finally found his voice, managing a single word: "How?"_

" _We found him in the rubble," Skywarp replied, lightly rocking Caliber in his arms to soothe him. "He was trapped under a few beams."_

" _Those beams kept most of the wreckage off him, though," Thundercracker pointed out. "They probably saved him from being crushed. He was more scared than anything else when we pulled him out."_

 _Soundwave desperately wanted to pull Caliber out of Skywarp's arms and hug him close… but that privilege belonged to another. He stepped back into Megatron's quarters._

" _Megatron's presence: requested."_

" _I said get out!"_

" _Survivors from the tower: present. Caliber: online."_

 _Megatron's head jerked up, and his optics blazed brightly. "W-what?"_

" _Caliber: survived," Soundwave repeated. "Outside this room."_

 _He had never seen his leader move that fast, even on the battlefield. Megatron pushed past him and had practically ripped Caliber from Skywarp's arms before Soundwave could even finish speaking, holding the sparkling close._

" _Daddy!" Caliber squeaked, wrapping his arms around his neck._

" _Caliber…" Megatron tucked his face against the sparkling's body, but even that action couldn't hide the cleanser streaming from his optics. "I thought… I thought…" He couldn't get the words out, and settled for clinging to the child as if terrified he'd be ripped away from him._

 _Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged a look. "We'll give him some privacy," the blue Seeker noted, and ushered his trinemate away._

 _Soundwave leveled a glower at the Decepticons who had gathered to witness the reunion, and they obediently scattered. Then he moved to place himself in front of Megatron's door as the silver mech carried the sparkling into his quarters. There was still so much to do… but he would let Megatron and Caliber have this moment of hope for themselves. After all those two had been through, they deserved it._

* * *

The meeting had been going perfectly well up until this moment. The Autobot Council requested regular updates from the governors of the various city-states, and Prime insisted on being present at these meetings to keep track of the progress on rebuilding Cybertron. So far every report had been positive and optimistic - reconstruction was on schedule or ahead of schedule, and though there was still much work to be done, there was hope that they could see a restored Cybertron within their lifetimes.

"Considering that we thought this task would take generations to accomplish, this is the best news we could hope for," Ultra Magnus noted, though his expression seemed to say that he expected problems to arise at any moment.

"The influx of new arrivals from the colonies has accelerated the reconstruction," reported Governor Prowl of Praxus. "More mechs mean more hands to rebuild, after all."

"We keepin' track of which colonies these mechs are comin' from?" asked Kup. "'Bots an' neutrals are all well an' good, but how do we know there ain't 'Cons among 'em?"

"Because every Decepticon colony has either surrendered to us or fled to deep space," Prime replied, frowning behind his mask. "And even if Decepticons are among those seeking to return to Cybertron, we scan all new arrivals to make sure war criminals aren't among them. If they just want to come home and live in peace, we have no right to deny them of that."

"What about former Decepticons among the neutrals?" asked Governor Pathfinder of Tyger Pax. "Should we be concerned about those?"

"There is no reason-" began Prime.

"No, she brings up a valid point," Xaaron countered, raising a hand to silence the Prime. "While we have always had an open-door policy towards colonists and neutrals wishing to return to Cybertron, perhaps it's time some restrictions were put into place. Those that once wore the Decepticon sigil could very well wear it again, or be sleeper agents planted by Megatron. We paid a steep price to win the war - we can't risk growing lax and letting the Decepticons reignite it once more."

Prime glared at the golden mech. Of course this meeting couldn't have gone smoothly - the old statesmech had to sour it. "The Decepticons have no more desire to rekindle the war than we do. I highly doubt any of them are returning to Cybertron planning to start it again. Banning Decepticons from returning to their rightful home will do more to reignite the war than allowing them to return and resettle."

"Are you sure?" Dai Atlas asked. "I mean… I want to believe they're as sick of this war as we are, but there could very well be some crazed loyalists returning under the guise of refugees or neturals."

"Damned good point, kid," Kup growled. "This would be the perfect opportunity for some nutjob to sneak in and try to stage a jailbreak, or plant a bomb in the capital, or-"

"No," Prowl stated firmly, his doorwings hitching up at a tense angle as he addressed the Council. "The likelihood of that happening is so slim it's practically nonexistent. Those most loyal to Megatron either followed him into prison or retreated to the far reaches of the galaxy to plan their next move. It's possible that a few extremists may slip in among the colonists, but it's extremely unlikely that they will cause any notable damage before they are caught."

"How can you be sure of this?" demanded Star Saber.

"Because unlike many of you, Optimus Prime and I were there in the aftermath of the Spiralis Disaster," Prowl replied. "We saw firsthand just how demoralized the Decepticons were. Many lost homes, loved ones, entire families. But beyond that, they lost the one thing that kept them going - their faith in their cause and their commander, a commander whose actions ultimately caused them far more pain and suffering than the Autobots ever had. Few, if any, of them have the desire to keep fighting, especially in the name of the mech responsible for the Disaster.

"So no… if the war starts again, it won't be on the part of the Decepticons. At least, unless we give the Decepticons reason to instigate violence once again. And Prime is correct - preventing them from returning to their rightful home is only inviting them to do just that."

Dai Atlas nodded, understanding dawning in his optics. "There's no more dangerous enemy than one who has nothing to lose. So we make sure we don't push the Decepticons to that point."

"Exactly." Prowl nodded in return. "Apologies for speaking out of turn, Prime."

"No apologies necessary," Prime replied, the knot of anger in his spark loosening. He missed having Prowl as one of his officers - the mech's analytical skills and trusted advice had always been a boon to him. But as always, Prowl had his back, even if his duties as governor meant he couldn't be at his side as often as before.

"What's to be done about the Decepticon territories?" asked Governor Fleetwind of Tyrest. "Most of them are still too toxic to even think about entering, but Polyhex and Kaon are still salvageable, among others."

"The inhabitants of those cities were evacuated and relocated," Ultra Magnus replied. "But we've focused on rebuilding Autobot city-states for the time being."

"Then perhaps we should change that," Prime replied. "We need to elect governors for those city-states and give them seats on the Senate, then set about reconstructing those cities."

"Are you serious?" demanded Star Saber.

"Perfectly serious," Prime retorted. "If we're going to welcome the Decepticons back to Cybertron, it only makes sense to give them someplace to go. What better place than their old homes?"

Xaaron pondered that a moment, then nodded. "I agree… provided the governors in question are carefully screened, and that the Autobots continue to monitor those cities."

Prime sighed but nodded, conceding those points for now. If it made the Council feel better to keep Polyhex and Kaon under scrutiny for the time being, so be it. Once some time had passed without incident, however, he would push for that scrutiny to be lifted.

"If there is no more business, then the governors are dismissed," Xaaron went on. "Prime… stay on. We want a word with you."

The governors filed out, though Prowl hung back a moment and quietly pinged Prime. _I can find an excuse to stay if you need me to._

 _It's not necessary,_ Prime replied. _I have a feeling I know what this is about. It'll be fine._

Prowl frowned but nodded. _I'll wait in the foyer. Comm me if you change your mind._ And he left.

Xaaron waited a few moments after the doors had shut behind the white-and-black mech, then spoke again: "We would appreciate an update on Megatron's sparkling."

"Caliber is doing well," Prime replied. "He's an intelligent young mech and does well in school, and he gets along well with other sparklings - both his age and older or younger. He's rather quiet, but that seems to be his personality more than anything."

Kup snorted. "Don't like the quiet bit. Could mean he's plottin' somethin'."

"He's barely into his secondary upgrade," Prime pointed out. "The most he has ever plotted is how to sneak extra sweets out of the kitchen without Elita-1 noticing." That plot had failed spectacularly - not much escaped Elita's notice - but she'd found it amusing more than anything and hadn't punished him for it.

"Has he exhibited any violent behaviors?" asked Ultra Magnus.

Prime wanted to bristle at that question, but in all honesty he'd been expecting it - he'd been hearing variations on it for several years now. And while it was tempting to answer with something sarcastic like "apart from the revolution he instigated on the playground last week, no," but his inner Prowl deemed that answer more trouble than it was worth.

"None whatsoever," he replied. "In fact, given that word about his parentage has leaked out to his classmates, he's in greater danger of facing violence from them."

"Can you really blame them?" asked Star Saber. "A lot of those kids lost parents to the war, or have otherwise grown up with horror stories about the Great Slagmaker. Of course they're going to be terrified of his kid!"

"That is NOT Caliber's fault," Prime retorted. "He has done nothing wrong. The fault lies in the parents who insist on holding onto old prejudices and teaching them to their children. Yes, Megatron did terrible things. But Caliber is not responsible for the sins of his father. Nor does he deserve any mistreatment simply because of his heritage."

Star Saber opened his mouth to retort, but shut it when Dai Atlas kicked him under the table. He settled for glaring as Xaaron spoke up.

"You are correct that Caliber should not be made to pay for his father's crimes," Xaaron replied. "But he bears watching regardless. And should he show any sign of aggression or violence, we expect them to be acted upon. We will not see him follow the same path his father did."

"He will not," Prime vowed.

"That remains to be seen," Xaaron replied. "That will be all."

Prime saluted the Council, holding the gesture a few moments longer than necessary before striding out of the chamber. Despite everything, despite the frequent updates and his constant reassurances that Caliber was anything but dangerous, they continued to assume he would grow up to be a copy of his father. And sadly, they were hardly the only ones - plenty of adults and even children thought the same thing, and would continue to give Caliber grief for it.

 _He has a hard path to walk,_ Prime thought as he made his way out of the building. _At least he won't walk it alone, though. I'll help him as much as I can… and Orion will to. They're brothers, even if they share no programming, and they look after one another. I just hope that will be enough._

* * *

"Gah!" Orion swiped at the table, sending a stack of datapads scattering. "Why are there so many cool alt modes? I can't choose one!"

"You have a few lunar cycles before you have to make a final choice," Elita told him. "And even then, if you're not happy with it, you have the option to change your mind. Now pick those up please."

Orion sighed and bent down to pick up the 'pads. When Mom and Dad had informed him and Caliber that they'd be receiving their adult upgrades within the next few quartrexes, he'd been ecstatic. Sure, he wouldn't be officially considered an adult - young mechanisms were still technically considered "teenagers" until they'd completed their schooling - but at least he'd be taken a bit more seriously. And he'd finally get an alt mode! He'd been wanting one for years!

But Dad had insisted that the two of them make an informed decision about their upgrade, and had brought home stack upon stack of datapads containing information on every possible sort of alt mode and chassis make and model. It had been exciting reading for the first day or two… but now, two weeks into their "research project," he was just feeling overwhelmed at the amount of information they had to go through.

"Caliber, did you want to look at any of these?" he asked, thumping the stack of 'pads on the table. "They're all cars."

"Sure." Caliber pushed away the Seeker-model datapad and reached for the stack. "Anything good?"

"Yeah, there's this really ugly one that looks like Gears," Orion replied with a smirk. "It's awesome. Wanna try it?"

Caliber made a face. "Ew, no."

Prime chuckled and looked up from his own datapad - something official-looking and probably very boring. "Gears is probably perfectly happy with his alt mode - or as happy with it as he ever is about anything. Don't judge a mech for what they turn into, boys."

"You guys probably want me to be a truck, huh?" asked Orion.

"It doesn't matter what we want you to pick," Prime told him. "What matters most is what YOU want to be. Don't let us determine that for you."

Orion felt a twinge of relief at that. As awesome as Dad's truck mode was, he just didn't feel like it fit him. And to be honest, he felt like choosing a truck mode would just make him "Optimus Prime Junior" to all of Cybertron, and he didn't want that. He wanted to be recognized as Orion of Iacon, not the son of the Prime.

"Caliber, have you found any you like yet?" asked Elita.

Caliber shook his head. "I found some I DON'T want, though." He tapped a stack. "No tanks or guns."

Prime and Elita shared a look at that, and Orion wondered what all the fuss was about. Then he remembered that Megatron had been both a gun at a tank at different points, and swallowed the question before he embarrassed himself by speaking it aloud.

"Hey, you could always go for a beast mode," he suggested instead. "You could be a griffon, like your plushie! Or a dragon! That'd be awesome!"

Caliber grimaced. "I just don't feel like a beast mode. Besides, Paddles says she'll beat up anyone who gets a more awesome beast mode than her."

"If you have a more awesome beast mode than hers, though, she couldn't beat you up!" Orion insisted. "What about a jet?"

"Maybe." Caliber pulled the Seeker datapad closer again. "I thought about a Seeker. Would Glory think I'm copying her, though?"

"Of course not," Elita assured him. "Though there are plenty of jetformers who aren't Seekers, you know."

"Yeah, and you're purple and gray," Orion pointed out. "Glory's colors. If you get a Seeker form, people might get you two mixed up."

"Our colors aren't THAT much alike," Caliber protested, but he slid the Seeker datapad aside anyhow.

"How is she doing?" Prime asked. "It's been a couple of lunar cycles since her upgrade, hasn't it? I hope she's settling in well."

"She's doing very well from everything I've heard," Elita replied. "She's getting some flak for choosing a chassis make that's so common among Decepticons, but honestly, you'd think we'd be over that sort of prejudice by now."

"Sadly, I think it will be a long time before we're past it," Prime noted. "But she should still have the freedom to choose whatever she wants, even if it's a Seeker form."

Orion pulled the Seeker datapad closer to study the specs. He wasn't close friends with Glory, though she had fit right in with their little group of friends and formed tight bonds with Zinc and Caliber. Caliber in particular looked up to her almost like an older sister, and when he had learned she was being upgraded he'd almost panicked. Somehow he believed that he'd lose her friendship once she wore an adult form, that she would no longer remember him or want to spend time with him.

Orion, too, had fretted - not because he was especially close to Glory, but because it had pained him to see his brother so worried. And he'd been just as relieved as Caliber when she'd visited their home a few days after her upgrade, sweeping both sparklings up in a hug and letting them climb all over her new chassis. He'd found her wings in particular fascinating, and begged her to take them on a flight as soon as she could. She had laughed and told them she still had to learn that particular skill, but she would as soon as she felt confident in the air.

 _I wonder if Mom and Dad would be mad if I chose a Seeker mode,_ he thought suddenly. _It'd be super cool to be able to fly! But if it's a Decepticon form… I dunno. I don't wanna make trouble. But I still want something awesome that can fly. Huh…_

"Okay, you two, you've pored over those for long enough," Prime declared, and set his own datapad aside. "I say we deserve to get in a game before you two have to go to bed."

"Yeah!" Caliber clapped excitedly and stood. "What game?"

"You two choose," Prime replied.

"Caliber, let's go pick a game!"

"Okay!" Caliber set down the datapad he'd been scrutinizing - some kind of helicopter-former - before grabbing Orion's hand and dashing to the game cabinet with him.

Prime, for his part, quietly stacked the datapads and put them aside for another night. He didn't get nearly enough time with his son or his adopted charge, and those days were numbered now that they were preparing for their adult upgrades. He would savor these moments while he had them.


	14. A Drink With Friends

_Another officer might have simply shouted a half-sparked order for those involved to stop from a safe distance, or even simply stood back and allowed what was happening to continue. Primus knew Blitzwing had a reputation as a merciless fighter, and had racked up more kills than almost any non-officer Decepticon over the course of the war. One might argue that he deserved a beatdown, or worse, and that the Autobots delivering said beatdown were entirely justified in their actions._

 _Optimus Prime was not one of those officers. He froze for a single moment, shock that such violence was being committed by fellow Autobots bleaching his optics white, before storming directly into the knot of mechs._

" _Enough!" he shouted, grabbing Blades by the scruff of the neck and yanking him back. "That's enough out of all of you!"_

 _Blades swore and almost dove right back into the fray, but checked himself when he realized just who had pulled him off of the triple-changer. The other mechs involved - Slingshot, Air Raid, Hot Shot, and Cliffjumper - continued to rain blows down on Blitzwing, either not hearing Prime's order or electing to ignore it. Blitzwing lay curled on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest and arms over his helm in an effort to protect his most vital components._

 _Prime unleashed a blow of his own, and Slingshot yelped as a blue fist knocked him aside. He grabbed Cliffjumper and Air Raid in each hand and physically tossed them aside, then reached for Hot Shot. The young carformer jumped back of his own accord, a guilty look on his visored faceplate._

" _This is unacceptable!" Prime growled, bending down to haul Blitzwing to his feet. "These Decepticons have surrendered to us. We will NOT abuse our prisoners!"_

" _What, it's not like he doesn't deserve a good whaling," snapped Slingshot._

" _He's a 'Con, why are we suddenly defending them?" Cliffjumper added with a scowl._

" _He will face justice… but it's not your place to deliver justice." Prime gestured to Hound and Ironhide, who hurried over to cuff the dazed triple-changer and lead him away. "The five of you will report directly to Ultra Magnus for disciplinary measures once we have returned to Cybertron."_

" _But-" began Hot Shot._

 _Prime gestured sharply to cut him off before walking away. He didn't want to hear it. This, sadly, had not been the first instance of Autobot brutality against Decepticon captives he had seen, and he had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last._

 _The Decepticon fortress on Kruvex had been taken with only a token amount of resistance. It hadn't been a completely peaceful surrender - shots had been exchanged, and a few Decepticons had preferred to go down fighting instead of turning over their weapons - but casualties on both sides had been minimal. Most of Megatron's followers, it seemed, had been all too willing to put their fates in the Autobots' hands rather than continue what they considered a pointless war._

 _Prime watched the medevac teams carry a badly-injured black Seeker into the nearest transport. One look at her wounds told him all he needed to know - her melted armor hadn't been caused by any weapon from this battle, but the corrosives of the Spiralis Disaster. And she was hardly the only one - many Decepticons still bore scars and melted plating from the devastation on Cybertron, damages they hadn't had time or resources to fix._

So much pain and suffering… and worse, it came from their own commander and not from the enemy. Small wonder they're surrendering in such droves. When you lose faith in your own cause… what else is there to fight for?

" _Prime."_

 _He shook himself out of his wistful thoughts and turned his attention to Prowl. "Has the fortress been secured?"_

 _The tactician nodded. "That's the good news."_

" _Do I dare ask the bad news?"_

" _Prob'ly not, but he's gonna tell ya anyway," Jazz quipped, earning an optic-roll from the Datsun. "Still not as bad as it could be, I guess…"_

" _Megatron and Soundwave are nowhere to be found," Prowl interrupted. "We've searched the entire fortress and found no trace of them. We've managed to arrest several other officers, but those two either escaped or were never here in the first place."_

 _Prime sighed softly. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that the Battle of Kruvex could bring an end to their war once and for all. Despite the effects of the Spiralis Disaster - effects he refused to call a "victory" as other Autobots did - he knew the war would not be considered over until Megatron was in custody. And if the warlord had escaped to Pit-knew-where, it meant this struggle could continue for months, even years, before it saw a proper end… and would continue to delay the healing that Cybertron so desperately needed._

" _If Megatron was here, he must have had quarters," he replied. "Jazz, find them and search them. Perhaps he left clues that could tell us where he's going."_

" _Roger-dodger," Jazz replied, snapping a salute._

" _Prowl, which officers were captured, and what's the possibility of one of them giving us information on Megatron's location?"_

" _General Deszaras, General Octos, Ground Commander Doomhammer, and Air Commander Starscream," Prowl replied. "General Straxus was present as well, but opted to take his own life rather than allow himself to be captured. Of them all…" His faceplates contorted in an expression of distaste. "Starscream is perhaps the most willing to talk, though the validity of his information will be debatable at best."_

" _At the moment, even flawed information is better than none at all," Prime replied. "Take me to him and we'll question him. We'll simply take everything he says with a grain of salt, as the humans are fond of saying."_

" _In the case of Starscream," Prowl replied sardonically, "you need an entire salt mine, not just a grain." But he motioned for the Autobot commander to follow him._

 _Starscream had already been loaded onto a transport, and grumbled and complained loudly as Sideswipe pulled him out to address the Prime. The white-and-red Seeker bore the telltale marks of a mech who had witnessed the Disaster first-hand and lived to tell about it - patches of warped metal marked his limbs. A good chunk of his left side and his left wing had obviously been repaired with whatever materials the Decepticons had on hand - the patch over his side was of gunmetal-gray, while his wing was a shade of white that didn't match the rest of his plating - but whether those damages had been inflicted by the Disaster or something else Prime couldn't tell._

" _So it's not enough that you Autobots have Cybertron, is it?" Starscream growled, narrowing his optics at Prime. "You have to push us off any world we occupy, don't you? And you call US greedy conquerers!"_

 _Prime ignored the obvious attempt to goad him into an argument. "We're looking for Megatron, Starscream. Do you know where he is?"_

" _Well, obviously, he's not here," Starscream spat. "Unless you Autobots are blind as well as idiots!"_

 _Sideswipe shoved Starscream in the small of his back, almost toppling him over. "Yo, have a lil' respect for the Prime, all right? Unlike you losers, we actually look up to our leaders!"_

" _Don't push him around, Sideswipe," Prime ordered. "Starscream… can you tell us where Megatron is?"_

 _Starscream opened his mouth, doubtless to vent more insults at the Autobot commander… but he slowly shut it, his optics taking on a cunning glitter. "Oh, I can all right. But will I? Perhaps with the right incentive, I could be persuaded to loosen my vocalizer."_

 _Prime exchanged a long look with Prowl. The tactician's doorwings twitched, but he gave a slow nod - a reluctant indication that they agree to his terms. Prime nodded in reply and turned back to the Air Commander._

" _You will not face an execution when you return to Cybertron," he promised. "And I will tell the judge in your upcoming trial to show you leniency in your sentence. You'll still serve a prison term, but you'll eventually walk Cybertron as a free mech."_

 _Starscream grinned. "He's heading for New Proximus, with Soundwave and a few Seekers in tow. He won't be staying long, though - he'll be making for the fringes of known space once he resupplies. You may want to hurry." His smirk widened. "And do tell Thundercracker and Skywarp hello for me. I look forward to seeing their faces again in prison."_

 _Prime gestured to Sideswipe, and the red warrior hauled Starscream back aboard the transport. "New Proximus… there's still a Decepticon colony there?"_

" _If they haven't evacuated or gone neutral since the Disaster," Prowl replied. "Think it could be a trap?"_

" _Perhaps… but it bears investigating all the same. Prowl, I'm sending you back to Cybertron with the prisoners. I'm gathering a task force to go to New Proximus and find Megatron before he can elude us again."_

" _Be careful, Prime," Prowl urged. "Megatron will be more dangerous than ever now that he feels he has nothing to lose."_

" _I know… but all the same, this war won't be over until we find him. Cybertron has suffered enough… I refuse to prolong our people's suffering any longer."_

* * *

The scream of jet engines tore through the streets of Iacon, drowning out the rumble of traffic. Optics darted skyward as mechs frantically searched for the source of that sound. The war had been over for years, but time had not dulled the memories… and there were still many who associated the howl of thrusters with an imminent Decepticon strike.

But the moment the two fliers burst out of an alleyway, one flying almost perpendicular to the ground in order to thread between buildings, most mechs relaxed and went about their business. The magenta jet and the violet helicopter bore no weapons, and seemed far more intent on chasing each other than unleashing chaos on the crowd below. It was no attack, but a couple of youngsters fresh into upgrade and pushing their new alt modes to their limits.

Orion flipped around in a barrel roll, coming to rest with his belly facing the sky. "Is that the fastest you can go, Cal? Told ya you picked a slow mode!"

"And yet I still beat you yesterday," Caliber retorted. "It's not always about speed, you know."

"Yesterday you cheated," Orion shot back, rolling upright.

"I did not cheat," Caliber replied. "You never said anything about shortcuts being against the rules."

"Well, they are now." He waggled his wings. "C'mon, last one to Swerve's buys drinks for the whole crew!" And he gunned his thrusters, tearing away.

Had Caliber been in root mode he would have shook his head in resignation. Instead he simply surged after the magenta flier, his rotors thumping the air. Let Orion have his victory if it made him feel any better. He honestly didn't mind buying a round for the group, even if it burned through his allowance at a frightening rate. He preferred spending his money on things the whole gang could enjoy and not just himself anyhow.

The two fliers soared over Platinum Square, scattering a flock of retro-birds and sending the banners hanging from several buildings whipping in the wake of their passage. They surged over the rooftops, Orion slaloming back and forth between spires and communication arrays while Caliber opted to fly high enough to avoid those obstacles altogether. At one point Orion's wingtip clipped an antennae, almost spinning him out of control, but he managed to correct his course before Caliber could overtake him.

Finally the magenta jet angled downward, diving for a neon-lit establishment on Iacon's main drag. He transformed in mid-air and let his antigravs take him down the rest of the way, until he lightly touched down on the sidewalk. He spread his arms and gave a playful bow to the mechs gathered before the doors of Swerve's. A sleek winged magenta-and-cobalt mech with a black, horned helm, he was a handsome young mech and knew it all too well… though at least he didn't rub it too much in his friends' faces.

"Thank you, thank you, no need for applause, no autographs please."

"I see your ego's as overgrown as ever," Zinc noted, raising an optic ridge. "Where's Caliber? Or did you leave him to get pulled over by the cops?" The yellow femme bore the boxy frame of a truckformer, complete with tires on her legs and windows set in her chest, and carried herself with the air of a mechanism who knew how to handle themselves in a fight. Indeed, she looked about ready to tackle Orion should he confess to leaving Caliber behind.

"I would never do such a thing!" Orion protested. "A good mech never leaves his brother in the lurch. Besides, he's right here."

Caliber touched down on his skids, letting his rotors wind down to a stop before transforming. Mostly violet with silver patches on his legs and chest, he still bore the distinctive bucket-helm and headfins of his youth. A set of rotors hung from his shoulders, and his bulkier frame indicated a heavier alt mode than Orion's.

"Hey Cal, Zinc is accusing me of abandoning you!" Orion told him, looking pained. "You'll defend my honor, won't you?"

Caliber gave a small smile. "He didn't, don't worry. The one time we did get pulled over, he was the one who talked the officer out of calling our parents. He may be arrogant, but he's a decent enough mech."

"I thank you for the high praise, bro," Orion retorted, thumping him lightly on the shoulder with his knuckles. "Is everyone here?"

"We're just waiting on Glory," Zinc replied. "She did comm to say she might be a little late."

"We can wait a little longer for her," Caliber assured her with a smile. "Don't think any of us are in a hurry."

"I am," Paddles rumbled, shifting her silver-and-gold bulk from foot to foot. "I didn't come all this way just to stand around. And here I thought you fliers were supposed to be the fast ones." Paddles stuck out among her comrades like a tank among a squadron of Seekers - enormous and bestial, bearing metallic fins instead of wheels or wings and with the fanged head of a prehistoric reptile tucked behind her head like a hood. She had opted for an ancient beast mode like her father and uncles - _Mosasaurus,_ a massive aquatic reptile.

Soar, in stark contrast to his sister, had upgraded to a sleek and slender adult form draped with overlapping plates of blue and yellow metal that gave him an almost birdlike look - fitting for his own alt, an _Archaeopteryx._ He made a show of rolling his optics behind Paddles' back. His vocalizer remained silent, but his reply flashed over their comms anyhow: _Just ignore her. She got in trouble for punting Uncle Slag through a window and is still sore about it._

"Am not!" Paddles growled.

Rhapsody laughed, though she did back up a step from the Dinobot femme - the sleek and short black-and-red carformer was scrappy enough in a fight but far outclassed by the bigger femme. "Do I dare ask what started it this time?"

 _No,_ Soar replied, just as Paddles answered "Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it."

"First round's on me," Caliber told them. "Just don't go too pricey, all right?"

"Deal," Rhapsody told him.

"Sorry I'm late!" Glory touched down at that moment, thrusters still winding down from her flight. "My cousins wanted me to finish watching their show with them, and it ran longer than I thought it would."

"You're a lot nicer with those two than I would be," Zinc noted, though she smiled as she draped an arm around the purple Seeker's shoulders and led her into the bar. "It's cute, though."

The seven young mechs and femmes strolled into Swerve's, flashing their IDs to the bouncer before claiming a table for themselves. They were a motley collection of young Cybertronians - from a variety of different heritages and backgrounds, bearing an odd assortment of adult frames and alt modes, with vastly different personalities and interests. Yet they were a tight-knit group, overlooking each other's differences with an openness that would have made their parents proud… and frustrated plenty of older Autobots.

Swerve was not one of those older Autobots… but then, he welcomed anyone to his establishment who had the credits to pay their tab, so perhaps he wasn't the best example.

"Good afternoon, kids!" he greeted, scooting up to their table. "You look like you're having fun! What's the occasion?"

"We're not kids," Zinc retorted. "We're all legal age. And we need a reason to celebrate?"

Swerve shrugged. "Y'all usually come in here to celebrate when one of your friends finally gets upgraded. Thought maybe Alpine finally swapped out for an adult chassis."

 _He has a few more lunar cycles before he's ready,_ Soar commed.

"Even if he insists he's totally ready and his parents are just being stubborn about it," Rhapsody giggled.

"Eh, he wouldn't be the first kid to sneak out an' upgrade early without his parents' permission," Swerve noted. "Seen it happen before. Your usuals, kids?"

"Our usuals," Caliber replied. "I'm paying the first round, but split the rest of the tabs."

"Got it." He grinned, making a "finger-guns" gesture at the heli-former before hurrying off.

"Someone needs to tell Alpine to chill," Orion noted. "Growing up's not nearly as fun as it looks."

"Says the mech who was begging Prime to let him upgrade early every day for weeks," Caliber replied, raising an optic ridge.

"Zephyr and Mistral talk about getting their wings all the time too," Glory chimed in. "The uncles are always telling them to enjoy being kids while it lasts, but I think it goes right over their heads."

"I think we were all too excited to grow up, to be honest," Zinc pointed out. "We think the adults have it so much better, only to look back and realize things were so much easier back when we didn't have a ton of responsibility."

"Or were ignorant of a lot of the slag that goes on in the universe," Glory added. "I didn't understand a lot of the hate my parents faced when they first came back to Cybertron… but now that I know, it just makes me upset at what the adults have done to the planet and each other."

"Dad would counter that with a speech about how it's up to us to succeed where the adults failed," Orion pointed out, sighing and leaning back in his chair. "Or some junk like that."

"Well… he's not wrong," Caliber pointed out, taking his drink from the approaching serving drone with a quiet thanks. "Cybertron's still got a long way to go to recover from the war, but we have the potential to fix a lot of it. We just need to step up and take action."

Zinc chuckled. "Look at you, all wise and grown-up, Cal! Let me guess, you're going into politics once you graduate."

Caliber grimaced. "Slag, no. I don't want anything to do with politics."

"Me neither." Orion drained his cube in one go and tried to balance the empty container atop his helm. "Everyone expects me to, because of who my dad is, but honestly I'd like to be able to choose my own future. Didn't we fight a whole war over that point?"

Caliber frowned, and looked like he wanted to say something in response. But a low growl from Paddles cut off any reply.

"Heads-up, guys," she rumbled. "Elite Guards heading this way."

Caliber tensed, rotors hiking higher on his back.

"They're probably just here for a drink," Glory assured her. "They won't harass us."

 _They're showing identification badges to the bouncer,_ Soar commed, his own wings hitching up and twitching. _We didn't do anything wrong, did we? We're old enough to be here, right?_ He started rocking in his seat, a soft keen drifting from his vocalizer.

"Easy," Paddles growled, resting a hand on his back and rubbing soothingly. "We're all legal age and paying customers. And unless someone broke the speed limit or ran over someone on the way here…" She glared at Orion.

"Hey, I didn't do a thing!" Orion protested. "Not that anyone can prove, anyhow…"

Zinc gestured sharply for Orion to shut up as the guards approached their table, their Autobot crests bearing the stylized wings that marked them as members of the Elite Guard. Soar keened more loudly, but incredibly both Orion and Caliber relaxed as one of them in particular approached the two of them.

"Hey Tracks," Orion greeted. "How's it feel knowing you're now the second-best looking mech in Iacon?"

Tracks chuckled. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, youngling. It takes more than wings and a flashy paint job to trump my good looks." He nodded to the other occupants of the table. "I hate to break this party up, friends, but Caliber's presence has been requested at the Iacon Tower."

Caliber's rotors had dropped in relief, but now they jerked back up at those words. "The Tower? The Council Tower?"

"I'm afraid so," the other Elite Guard, a dark brown jeepformer with navy blue trim, replied. "You're not under arrest, but Emirate Xaaron would like to speak with you. Just a visit, nothing official… though he recommends you don't keep him waiting."

Orion clamped a hand on Caliber's shoulder. "I'm going with you."

"You don't have to-" Caliber insisted, though already the tension started to ease out of his frame.

"I'm going," Orion insisted. "I dunno what Xaaron's got planned, but it can't be anything good. You need the support." He glared at Tracks as if daring him to try to stop him.

"Xaaron said nothing about the son of Prime…" began the other Guard.

"Oh, what harm can it do?" Tracks insisted. "Come on, you two. It's a long drive to the Tower."

The two Guards and the two brothers left Swerve's… leaving their friends to speculate wildly as to what was going on, and Soar to make a frantic call to his father.

* * *

Caliber had never met Emirate Xaaron face to face before, but from all the stories he'd heard he had expected a towering, imposing statesmech. He hadn't expected a stocky, rather plain-looking mech shorter than him, plated in metallic gold and silver but otherwise unornamented and drab. It was hard to look at him and imagine his adopted father so intimidated by him.

"Thank you for coming," Xaaron noted, his voice deep but mild as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk. "Please sit down. Guards, Orion, leave us."

"I'm not leaving!' Orion insisted, planting his fists on his hips and glowering at the Council member. "Anything you've got to say to him, you can say with me in the room."

Xaaron sighed deeply. "Well, you certainly inherited your father's stubborn nature. But I mean your friend no harm. I only wish to have a discussion with him, and perhaps discuss his future."

Orion narrowed his optics. "If that's all, then why do you want me gone so bad?"

"Orion, go," Caliber told him. "I'll be all right."

"I don't trust him, Cal!" Orion protested. "You can't be-"

"I'll be fine," he assured him. "Don't get yourself in trouble on my account."

Orion scowled, but he let Tracks lead him out of the room. Caliber waited for the door to slide shut before sitting down, taking in the spartan but sizeable office before returning his attention to Xaaron.

Xaaron, for his part, spent a long moment studying the young mech before leaning back in his chair. "So you are the infamous son of Megatron."

Caliber bristled, and he forced his rotors to lay flat against his back instead of flaring in irritation. "My name's Caliber. Megatron is my sire. But I'm not him."

Xaaron raised an optic ridge. "I've heard much about you, young Caliber. Prime speaks most highly of you."

He had no idea how to respond to that, and settled for a slight nod.

"The Council has taken a great interest in your future, young mech." Xaaron pulled something from a drawer - a decanter of a bright blue fuel and two cut-crystal glasses. "We're all quite curious about what you plan to do with the rest of your life. And perhaps I can offer some advice on that front." He poured a layer of high-grade into one glass and offered it to Caliber.

"I haven't decided for sure what I want to do with my life, sir," Caliber explained, taking the glass and just studying the contents. He wanted to add _but I know for sure what I DON'T want to do,_ but decided that would only upset the Councilor. "I've discussed it quite a bit with Prime and… others. I have a few ideas, but I want to be sure before I take any big steps."

"Understandable," Xaaron noted, sipping at his own drink. "But I'd be interested in hearing those ideas. Perhaps I can offer some feedback."

Caliber had no idea what Xaaron was hoping to accomplish with this meeting, but decided he had nothing to gain by lying or clamming up. "To be honest… I was hoping to go to medical school. Become a doctor, or a medic."

Xaaron's golden optics flashed at that. "Not quite what I expected."

 _What were you expecting me to say?_ Caliber thought, rotors twitching. _A gladiator, a revolutionary, Emperor of Cybertron?_ With a great effort he held his vocalizer, and forced his fingers to relax their death grip on his glass before it cracked.

"Still, an admirable goal. One that I'm sure your foster father will approve of." He drained his glass and set it aside. "You know… the Council can assist you on this path if you so wish. Not every mech who applies for medical school makes it in, but perhaps we can find the means to smooth the path for you."

Caliber frowned. This wasn't what he'd expected from this meeting… but it still sounded too good to be true. Prime had never bad-talked the Council directly to him, but he'd overheard enough of his complains to Elita to know they had a fairly low opinion of him and his father… and that they weren't above some shady tactics to get what they wanted.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean that we can make your journey towards fulfilling your goals easy… or difficult." He folded his hands on the desk. "How hard that journey is merely depends on a single factor."

"What factor?" This sounded less like a bribe and more like a threat now. "What do you want from me?"

In answer Xaaron removed another object from his desk drawer and set it before him - a metallic red Autobot sigil. The stern visage gleamed up at him, as if silently judging him and finding him wanting.

"What's this?" he asked, though he knew all too well what it was.

"The key to an easier future for you," Xaaron replied. "The optics of all Cybertron are upon you, young Caliber - watching your every move, your every action, silently waiting for any sign that you may be following in your father's footsteps."

"I'm not-" he protested.

"I know very well that you are not," Xaaron assured him, his voice gentle and even kindly. "Prime has vouched for you on every occasion. But if you were to wear this symbol, to publicly declare your allegiance to the Autobots, it would erase those doubts. Not entirely - you will probably always encounter resistance - but it will ease the minds of so many Autobots to know that the son of Megatron has declared himself an Autobot."

Caliber picked up the sigil and stared into the hollow voids of its optics. Such a small scrap of alloy… yet it felt immensely heavy in his palm. Xaaron wasn't just asking him to wear this on his chest - he was asking him to choose a side.

His fingers twitched, then closed over the sigil. His spark pulsed hotly in his chest, threatening to sear its way out. He knew he should say yes - his family and most of his friends were Autobots, and Cybertron was largely governed by Autobots. But by taking this sigil, he felt he would be renouncing his father and his past entirely. And the thought of doing that made his tanks lurch and ache.

"You don't need to decide right this moment," Xaaron told him, his tone almost fatherly. "But now that you're an adult, you really should make the decision soon. How about tomorrow? You can come back then and give the entire Council your answer."

Caliber didn't get a chance to respond - the doors opened, and Optimus Prime stormed into the office, optics flashing with anger, Orion hurrying after him with a worried expression.

"Optimus." Xaaron's fatherly tone evaporated like water on hot iron. "You have no right to just barge into my office-"

"I have every right when you're interrogating my son without my permission." His hand rested on Caliber's shoulder. "I don't know what's going on here, but I'm putting a stop to it right now. And from now on, you talk to ME before you decide to have a private chat with either of my sons."

"Caliber is not your son," Xaaron retorted, his voice cold.

"I beg to differ," Prime replied, and he tugged lightly at Caliber's arm. "Come… let's go home. We can discuss whatever Xaaron has told you in a less intimidating setting."

Caliber might have protested Prime's overprotectiveness at any other time, but now he simply followed him and Orion out of the office, legs shaky with relief. Perhaps Optimus would understand his dilemma… and help him make a decision regarding the sigil.


	15. Towards Peace

_New Proximus was supposed to be a safe haven for Megatron and what remained of his personal forces. It turned out to be a dead end… and very nearly a death trap._

" _They've found us!"_

 _Megatron flinched as an explosion shook the mining tunnels where he and the two Seekers had taken cover, sending splinters of rock raining down from the ceiling and clattering on their armor. Caliber, already shaking with fright, screamed and curled up tightly against the wall as further explosions ripped through the air. The walls trembled, and the sounds of blaster fire and heavy footsteps rumbled closer._

 _The silver mech clenched his jaw as he shifted to place himself between the exit and the sparkling, ready to shield him with his own chassis if necessary. No time to wonder who had betrayed their location - though he had a sickening feeling he knew just who the traitor had been. They had been cornered, and the only choices remaining were to surrender or go down fighting._

 _Under normal circumstances, Megatron would have fought to his last spark pulse. He had long vowed that he would not be taken prisoner, that if he ever had to make a final stand he would make sure to take down as many mechs as he could before they finally killed him. But these were far from normal circumstances… and he would not abandon Caliber, nor force him to watch the Autobots gun his father down._

 _Soundwave's voice broke in over his comm unit._ Tunnels - breached.

So we noticed, _Megatron retorted._ How many?

Approximately fifty.

 _Too many for three Decepticons and a child to hope to fight off. They were as good as penned in - their desperate flight had been for nothing._

Ravage reports, _Soundwave continued, calm as ever._ Secondary exit to the mines, to the south. Take it. Haste: recommended. Cassettes and I will buy you time.

 _Emotion swamped Megatron, and he struggled to form a reply. This wasn't the first time Soundwave had staged a distraction to enable his retreat, or taken a shot meant for him - he'd come to simply expect it, truthfully, taking the cassette-deck's loyalty for granted. But now, the gesture meant far more. When so many of his Decepticons had abandoned him, when his empire was a shambles, Soundwave not only refused to desert him but was willing to lay down his life for him._

 _Another explosion, and the comm fizzled into static. He had lost his chance at a reply - Soundwave was either dead or in the hands of the Autobots now. He would never have a chance to thank him for his sacrifice._

Then at least make sure it's not wasted, you lug, _he thought._ Run… run far and fast, and keep Caliber safe. That's your only mission from this point forward.

" _Get to the back exit!" he ordered Thundercracker and Skywarp. "It's our only chance!"_

 _The two Seekers exchanged a quick look… a quick look that seemed to transmit a wealth of information. Skywarp nodded, and Thundercracker nodded back and turned to address their commander._

" _You go on ahead, sir!" Thundercracker told him, raising his voice as the rattle of gunfire rang through the tunnels. "Skywarp and I will hold them off!"_

" _You are NOT playing the hero!" Megatron barked. "Not in your condition!"_

 _Thundercracker's optics brightened in shock, and Skywarp's jaw dropped. Their expressions might have been comical under less desperate circumstances - both had worked hard to keep their newspark secret, but Megatron had spotted the signs right away. He might have known Thundercracker was carrying even before Skywarp did._

 _Thundercracker recovered quickly, however. "With all due respect, sir, get Caliber and run! We'll buy you some time!"_

 _Another surge of emotion swept through him, and though he wanted to thank these two for the loyalty he'd done nothing to deserve, the words tangled in his vocalizer. He settled for a nod in their direction, and they turned to face the oncoming Autobots, wings high, guns trained on the curve of the tunnel as footsteps thundered closer._

 _Caliber shrieked again as Megatron swept him up in his arms. He shifted the sparkling to one arm, keeping his weapon-arm free just in case, and bolted further down the tunnel. Behind him he could hear blaster fire, Thundercracker's scream, the thud of fists on metal…_

 _His son whimpered and buried his face in Megatron's neck cables. Megatron wanted nothing more than to stop running and soothe him, but he didn't even slow down. He was all Caliber had left now… and Caliber was all he had left. And though he had failed his Decepticons, he swore he would not fail his son._

* * *

The two young mechs sat on the balcony of the apartment, watching the setting sun gild the towers of Iacon in gold. Caliber held his legs tucked up against his body, knees to his chest, while Orion perched on the very edge, his feet dangling out into the empty space over the street. Neither spoke, content to let the background hum of traffic fill the silence for them.

Finally, Orion spoke. "You know you don't have to take it, right?"

Caliber frowned and turned to face him. "Are you serious?"

"What, it's not like there's a law," Orion insisted. "No one's making Decepticons remove their crests or anything. It's just like Dad said - you don't have to declare yourself an Autobot if you don't want to."

"You think I have a choice?" Caliber retorted, the words coming out angrier than he intended them. "Xaaron made it pretty clear that the Council has the power to make my life a living Pit if I turn the sigil down. Besides… I'm the son of Megatron. If I DON'T put the sigil on, everyone's going to assume I'm following in his footsteps."

"I know you're not going to," Orion insisted. "Mom and Dad know. Zinc knows. Glory knows. Paddles and Soar and Rhapsody and Alpine all know."

"Yeah, but… they don't exactly represent the rest of Cybertron, do they?" Caliber sighed and flopped onto his back, staring up into the sky. "You're lucky, you know. You don't have every optic on Cybertron on you, just waiting for you to screw up so they can claim 'I told you so' and have an actual excuse to hate you."

Orion sighed and scooted back from the edge, laying down beside his brother. "Maybe not that exact thing… but I know how it feels to have an entire planet's attention on you."

Caliber raised an optic ridge. "You're the son of the Prime, though."

"So're you," Orion pointed out. "Maybe not in spark, but he still sees you as a son, you know. But that's a pep talk for another time." He tucked his hands behind his head and gazed up into the slowly darkening sky. "But being the son of the Prime… that's what gets everyone's attention. And I love Dad but… I kind of hate that label."

Caliber puzzled over that, but he waited for Orion to finish his thought instead of pressing for an explanation.

"I hear it all the time, you know," Orion went on. "From teachers, from law enforcement, from Uncle Ironhide and Ratchet and Prowl and all the other grownups. That as the son of the Prime I have a reputation to uphold, that my father left huge footsteps to fill and they expect me to live up to his legacy. 'I expected better out of the son of Optimus Prime' and 'you have a destiny to fulfill' and all of that. Maybe it's not as bad as everyone expecting me to someday snap and go all homicidal maniac or conquering warlord - no offense…"

"None taken."

"But it's still annoying as all Pit." He sighed and flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his chest. "I want to be able to decide my own future, you know? Not be expected to get into politics or take up the Matrix and be Optimus Prime II or whatnot."

Caliber nodded slowly. "I can understand that. Being pushed to be something you're not. But at least no one's going to assume you're the second coming of the Decepticon Empire if you screw up."

Before Orion could reply, the balcony doors slid open. Both mechs quickly sat up as Optimus walked out to join them.

"Oh, don't get up on my account," Prime told them with a chuckle. "You two looked comfortable out here."

"Just hanging out," said Orion with a grin.

"Were you hanging your feet over the edge again?" Prime asked, arching an optic ridge. "You know your mother hates that."

"Yeah, but she's not back from her meeting yet," Orion pointed out. "So she isn't gonna see it and freak out. Besides, I've got antigravs. Not like it's dangerous."

"Point… all the same, try not to let her catch you." He settled himself down by the two young mechs. "How are you doing, Caliber?"

"Better, Optimus," Caliber replied. "Still a little upset about earlier, but not as much."

Prime nodded. "I had words with the Council. They won't pull a stunt like this again." He rested a hand on the violet mech's shoulder. "And don't let them pressure you into a decision, all right? Taking a sigil should be a personal choice, not something done under coercion or bribery."

"Tell Xaaron he should be the one to take that sigil," Orion muttered. "Take it and stick it up-"

"You're not helping," Caliber informed him.

"What, it's not like he doesn't already have something stuck up there," Orion retorted. "Like his fraggin' CPU-"

"Orion," Prime scolded. "That's enough."

"I just worry, Optimus," Caliber confessed, his gaze fixed on the amber horizon. "Not just about what Xaaron and the Council might do if I don't take up the sigil. But how will Cybertron itself react if I don't declare myself an Autobot? I… I don't want to get hurt. And I don't want to rely on my friends to keep me out of trouble, either."

Prime sighed deeply. "Oh Caliber… you are far too young to have this burden on your shoulders. But know that whatever sigil you decide to wear - Autobot or Decepticon - Elita and I will support your decision. And your friends will too… and never feel you're a burden to them. They help you and protect you because they care about you."

Caliber was silent a moment as he absorbed Prime's reassurance. "And if I don't want to wear either sigil?"

Orion's wings jerked higher at that, and even Prime's optics flashed in surprise. But while Orion gaped at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted tentacles, Prime recovered quickly and gave a gentle nod. "Then we will support that decision as well. One of the things your father fought for was for mechanisms to have the right to decide their own destinies. I believe it would please him greatly for you to have that right for yourself."

The knot of tension in Caliber's spark released at that. "Thank you, Optimus."

"Wait, THAT'S why Megatron started a war?!" Orion exclaimed. "I thought he just wanted to be the leader of Cybertron!"

Prime sighed again, this time in annoyance. "What the frag are they teaching you young ones in school? No matter… but the short answer, Orion, is that the reasons behind the war are far more complex than the average mech wants to believe."

"Should I ask my father about it?" asked Caliber.

"If you would like," Prime replied. "Though he may not want to talk about it. Don't be afraid to voice the question, just be prepared for him to not want to answer."

Caliber nodded. "Should I talk to him about… the sigil?"

"If you want to. What you discuss with your father is entirely up to you." Prime squeezed his shoulder, then stood. "Speaking of which… you'd better get to bed. We have to be up early if you want to keep your appointment with him."

"Can I come this time?" asked Orion. "You need a guard, right?"

"Ironhide has that position covered, as always," Prime assured him. "And no, you're staying home. You owe Elita a few more hours of housework to pay back for that window you broke."

Orion huffed and folded his arms over his chest. "One of these days I WILL meet your dad face-to-face, Caliber," he vowed. "It's only fair, right?"

"If my dad met you, he'd probably say something snarky about how he can't believe THIS is the spawn of Optimus Prime," Caliber retorted with a smirk - the first smile he'd managed since the meeting with Xaaron.

"Hey," Orion retorted, though the glint in his optics proved he wasn't really upset.

Prime chuckled. "Come inside, you two. You've had a long day."

* * *

Megatron snorted as he swiped to another photo - one of Orion laying amidst the wreckage of the broken window, both arms raised to flash dual peace signs at the camera. "I can't believe the great Optimus Prime managed to spawn THIS reckless idiot. Or that you actually deign to call him your brother."

"Hey, Orion's an awesome brother," Caliber replied. "A little impulsive sometimes, but he means well. He has my back."

Megatron nodded as he continued to scroll through the photos on the datapad. Like father, like son - he had long convinced himself that Optimus Prime was hopelessly idealistic and naive, but he couldn't deny that Prime was one of the most compassionate mechs he'd ever met. If Orion had inherited even a fraction of that compassion, then his son was in good company.

"Who's the black-and-red femme?" he asked when he reached a group photo - Caliber, Orion, and a group of young mechs and femmes posing in what looked like a park, several of them making faces at the camera and the femme in question posing like a rock star in the foreground.

"That's Rhapsody," Caliber replied. "Jazz's daughter."

"Ah, her," Megatron noted, nodding in recognition of the name. "I didn't recognize her with her upgrade. I'm surprised she didn't change her optic color with her upgrade, though."

"Why would she?" Caliber asked, brow plates bunched up in a frown. "She's always loved her optics. And to be honest, I like them too…" His faceplates heated up in a blush, and he ducked his head and looked away.

Megatron opted not to embarrass his son further by commenting on that. "I assumed she would have blue optics in her upgraded chassis, or at least wear a visor to hide their color. She's an Autobot now, even if she was sparked by Decepticons."

Caliber stared at him, and Megatron was struck by the sudden pain in his son's optics. "Dad… do you think she should have changed them? That because she was raised by an Autobot, she HAS to be an Autobot?"

"I never said that," Megatron replied evenly. "Nor will you ever hear me say that. Rhapsody - and any mech or femme, for that matter - has the right to decide their own appearance, alt mode, or function in life. Or anything else." He frowned and set the datapad aside. "I merely meant that I'm surprised her father or anyone else let her get away with it."

Caliber almost went limp with visible relief. "Jazz let her plan everything about her adult chassis, including her optic color. A few people complained, but he said they could go scrap themselves."

Megatron glanced up at the "guards" who kept watch over his visit with his son. Ironhide had very nearly fallen asleep, by now making no effort to hide the fact that these sessions thoroughly bored him, but Prime looked on with interest… and, to Megatron's surprise, concern. It didn't take a master strategist to understand there was more going on here than just the color of Rhapsody's optics.

"What's going on, Caliber?"

Caliber's gaze moved to Prime, who gave an encouraging nod back. Visibly steeling himself, he turned back to his father and spoke.

"The Autobot Council wants me to declare myself an Autobot. To wear their sigil."

Megatron's optics flashed in sudden fury. He should have expected this - he had surrendered guardianship of his son to the Autobots, and of course they would want him to join their faction. But all the same, hearing that those puffed-up statesmechs were trying to force his son into the mold they'd already prepared for him made his fluids boil… and his spark ache. After fighting for so long for a Cybertron where mechs could choose their own futures, would his son be denied a choice?

 _Enough,_ he told himself. _What's done is done. You cannot change it. And for all you know, he could WANT to join the Autobots. He's being raised by one, and his beloved brother is one…_

"Dad?"

Megatron shook his head, snapping himself out of those angry thoughts. "Is that what you want? To wear the Autobot symbol?"

"To be honest, Dad… I don't want to wear ANY symbol."

The roiling in his spark eased, but didn't still entirely. He leaned back in his seat, regarding his son curiously. "You wish to be neutral, then?"

"Not really… I don't know." He stared down at his hands, picking lightly at his joints. "Do I have to pick a side? Can't I just be Cybertronian, not Autobot or Decepticon or neutral?"

"Cybertronians have been dividing themselves into factions for millions of cycles," Megatron replied. "You will be expected to do the same."

"Just because I'm expected to doesn't mean I WANT to," he protested. "I… I can't make that decision. If I wear the Decepticon sigil, it's a slap in the face to the family who raised me. But I can't wear the Autobot sigil either - because that would be denying the other half of my family. The family who created me, and were willing to give their lives to protect me. And I won't deny that part of my heritage, no matter what anyone says."

Megatron's spark burned with emotion - pride, but also fear that his son's decision would paint a target on his back. By declaring his loyalty to the mech who had sparked him, was he sabotaging his own future?

 _Still… this is his choice. Let him make it. He has allies to help him face whatever consequences may come of it, at least._

"Then take no sigil," Megatron told him. "And if anyone attempts to force one on you, quote Optimus Prime at them."

Caliber managed a chuckle. "'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,' right? And that includes freedom to choose."

Megatron nodded. "Optimus and I had many… differences of opinion." That was an understatement of epic proportions. "But that, at least, was a cause we had in common."

"Prime said something about you fighting for mechs to have the freedom to choose their own futures," Caliber admitted. "We learned some about the old caste system in school, but they glossed over most of it. Was that what you were fighting to destroy?"

He sighed deeply in reply. He should have expected this question to come someday, but he had rather hoped it would come later rather than sooner. How did you explain to your own child how you almost drove your own people to extinction to further a cause? How you tried to fix a broken system only to break it even further? How the quest for the power to fix said system had consumed you, until you'd forgotten the very cause you'd been fighting for in the first place? Until an entire planet paid the price for your arrogance?

In the end, he opted for the simplest answer. "Do they make you young mechs read _Towards Peace_ in school?"

Caliber shook his head. "It's on the optional reading lists. A couple cycles ago some parents were even calling for it to be banned. They called it pro-Decepticon propaganda." He snorted. "Of course, that just made a lot of students want to read it even more. I never got around to it, though."

"I'm not surprised they call it propaganda," Megatron noted dryly. "I wrote it."

Caliber's optics brightened in surprise. "You wrote it? How come this is the first I'm hearing about this?"

"Recent editions of the book have stripped away the author's name," Prime chimed in. "The publisher felt that it would be received better if mechs assumed it was written by an anonymous Decepticon sympathizer rather than Megatron himself."

Megatron glowered at Prime. "Eavesdropper."

Prime shrugged. "Just clarifying for Caliber's sake."

Megatron made a show of rolling his optics. "You're his guardian now, Optimus. Are you going to protest if I recommend Caliber reads _Towards Peace?_ I believe he can learn something valuable from it."

"I have no objections," Prime replied. "In fact, I think I may request that Orion read it too. Our young Cybertronians deserve to know all the reasons behind the war. Perhaps if they know the entire truth, they'll be less likely to repeat the mistakes of our generation."

Caliber nodded. "I'll get a copy, then. Maybe an older one, if I can find it. If they take your name off the new copies, who knows what else they've edited out of it?"

He couldn't hide his pleased grin at that statement. Caliber was a bright young mech. He was going to go far along whatever path he chose to take… provided the Autobots didn't make that path impassible for him.

"Unfortunately, on that note, we need to go," Prime told them. "Visiting hours are almost over."

Megatron scowled but handed the datapad back to Caliber. "Thank you for coming. Your visits help break up the monotony of this place." They did far more than that - they were the one thing that kept him going, the spark of light in an otherwise dark and lonely existence - but he still clung to enough fragile pride to not say those words in front of the Autobots.

Caliber was a bright young mech, however, and seemed to pick up that unspoken fact. He gripped his father's hand, squeezing it tightly, his optics shining with understanding. "I'll see you next week?"

"If the warden doesn't lock the place down to prevent it," Megatron replied. "I'm surprised she still allows these visits."

"She tolerates them," Prime noted with amusement. "Take care of yourself, Megatron."

Megatron nodded at the Prime, and watched him and Ironhide escort his son out of the room. Caliber had become a fine young mech, and it made his spark blaze with pride to see him standing up for himself, facing his challenges with a quiet dignity that impressed him. He only wished he could be there by his side to help him.

* * *

The shopkeeper had his olfactory sensor buried in a book - not a datapad, but an honest-to-Primus hardbound plastic-sheet volume - and it took several attempts at clearing his vocalizer for Caliber to get his attention. The pinkish-gray mech glanced up, his goggle-like visor magnifying his optics to comical effect, his face still blank as if he'd left his CPU behind in whatever story he'd just snapped out of.

"Uh… can I help you?" he asked at last.

"I'm looking for a book," Caliber replied.

The shopkeeper glanced about the store - a store whose every wall was packed with shelves of books and datapads. "Well, you're in the right place."

"I mean I'm looking for a specific book."

"That's better." The mech tucked a strip of metal into the book to mark his place, then turned to the computer next to him. "Got a title? An author? Please don't say 'I don't remember the title or who wrote it but the cover's blue,' if I had a shanix for every time I heard that…"

" _Towards Peace,_ " Caliber replied, and braced himself for a bad reaction.

The mech, bless his spark, didn't so much as bat an optic shutter at the request. "Got several editions of that. You want a more recent edition, or one from back a ways?"

"Um… do you have a first edition?"

"We do, but it might be outta your price range." He pulled up a list of titles on his computer - all the same title, but each with a different date beside it. "The first editions were recalled and destroyed per Megatron's orders back during the war. Apparently he didn't like something in 'em and wanted to fix and republish it. First editions exist and we even got one in stock, but it'll set you back a fair bit of cash."

 _Huh… I wonder what Dad found so objectionable about the first edition that he wanted it destroyed._ Perhaps the publisher had made an alteration that he didn't like, or he'd changed his mind about something in its contents. He'd have to ask him during his next visit.

"We got a third edition in stock," the shopkeeper went on. "Published about eight vorns before the _Ark_ left for Earth. Think that'll suit you?"

"It should," Caliber replied. "Thanks, sir."

"Not a problem." The shopkeeper scurried towards a shelf towards the middle of the store and skimmed the titles. "Doing a school project?"

"Um… sorta?" He hated lying, but at the same time he didn't want to discuss why he was reading a war criminal's book with a complete stranger. Especially if said stranger recognized him as being the son of said war criminal…

"Seems like all the kids nowadays wanna read this," the mech went on as he plucked a gray-covered volume from the shelf. "Not that I fault 'em, it's interesting reading. Take it with a grain of sodium chloride, of course, given who wrote it, but still interesting."

"You… don't think it's weird that mechs come in requesting this book?" Caliber asked.

"Kid, mechs come into this store requesting the weirdest slag," the shopkeeper told him, scanning the book and holding his hand out for Caliber's paycard. "Junkion poetry, Golden Age fantasy novels, Quintesson science journals, human porn… I don't judge, I just cater to their tastes. Besides, when the moral guardians get on their cleanser-boxes and start screaming for a book to be banned, I expect sales of it to pick up. To paraphrase one of the human books, the best way to get everyone to read something is to ban it. Want a bag?"

"Nah, I'm good." Caliber took his paycard back and accepted the book. "Thanks, sir."

"No problem. Enjoy, kid. Or at least learn something."

Caliber held the book close to his chest as he left the bookstore, heading back for the train terminal at a fast walk. He tried to act casual, not like a criminal smuggling contraband… but all the same, he felt incredibly conspicuous at the moment. If one of the more vocally anti-Decepticon Autobots or even someone closely allied to the Council spotted the son of Megatron carrying his father's most controversial book, he was sure the slag would hit the fan.

 _Maybe I should have gotten it from the library. But all they had was the newest edition - and honestly, I refuse to read that. Plus, this way I can make notes in this copy, or highlight sections of it. Though if Orion wants to read it, maybe I should make him buy his own copy…_

Curses and the thump of metal striking metal broke up his thoughts, and he focused his gaze on the scuffle that had broken out on the sidewalk just ahead. Two groups of young toughs had been arguing from the look of it, and the argument had finally come to blows. He recognized the golden gleam of Sunflare's armor, and immediately decided he wanted to give this brawl as wide a berth as possible. Sunflare hadn't dared to bully him for years now, but all the same he didn't want to cross paths with the mech if at all possible.

He ducked into a nearby alley, sidestepping a pile of refuse as he hurried on ahead. If his internal GPS was correct, this path would still take him to the terminal. It'd be a bit of a delay, but he could make that up if he picked up his pace…

A hand shot out of the darkness and clamped onto his shoulder. He twisted, trying to wrench away, but something jammed into his neck cables, releasing a flood of energy that made his entire chassis burn with pain.

He caught one glimpse of his attacker before his vision blacked out - a glimpse of a violet mask and scarlet optics that blazed with an unholy triumph.


	16. The Search Continues

_Prime regarded the prisoner with as calm a gaze as he could manage… though inside, some portion of his spark shuddered as his optics met that scarlet visor. Megatron might have had a fearsome reputation among the Autobot forces, but almost any soldier or officer would tell you they would rather face the Great Slagmaker himself than Soundwave. His telepathic abilities alone made him a formidable opponent, and he was no slouch on the battlefield either… but it was his silent, enigmatic nature that was most frightening. For who knew just what the blue mech was thinking at any given moment… or his precise reasons for serving Megatron._

 _The fact that they had the infamous cassette-carrier in chains didn't ease Prime's CPU nearly as much as he had hoped. Soundwave might be cuffed to a chair, stripped of weapons and his cassettes captured and locked away, but he regarded the Autobot leader calmly, without a trace of fear or defeat in his posture. And despite the Council's orders, Prime knew that he would have better luck trying to wring oil from a rock than prying information on Megatron's whereabouts from this prisoner._

" _I don't want to make this harder than it has to be," Prime told him. "Tell us - where is Megatron?"_

 _Soundwave didn't so much as twitch. He simply regarded Prime as if he were in total control of the situation… which, in a way, he was._

" _You're facing a war-crime trial," he pressed. "If you cooperate, I can ensure you a lighter sentence."_

 _No answer._

" _Soundwave… I know you are loyal to him, and want to protect him. But consider just what he has done to Cybertron. His actions have ruined nearly half the planet and killed millions - Autobots AND Decepticons. Do you really want to keep protecting him?"_

 _The mech didn't reply, but Prime swore he'd just earned a dirty look. He didn't blame the prisoner - it had been a low blow, even if it had been deserved._

" _Think of your cassettes, if nothing else," he urged. "I know they're far more than living weapons to you. If you tell us what we want to know, I can ensure you're in a better position to take care of them."_

 _Soundwave regarded him silently, then raised his chin. Prime took it as a gesture of defiance… until he saw the snapped wires amid the prisoner's neck cables, and his tanks lurched in horror. His vocalizer was gone - not just destroyed, but ripped out entirely. The blue mech had gone to the greatest lengths possible, short of self-deactivation, to ensure he wouldn't betray his commander._

" _You… didn't need to do something so drastic to make your point," Prime said at last. "The answer is no, then."_

 _Soundwave gave a slow nod - the first actual response he'd gotten from the prisoner._

" _Very well," Prime told him. "If that's your final decision. Guards, we're through here."_

 _The guards uncuffed Soundwave from the chair and recuffed his hands behind his back, ushering him out of the interrogation room. Prime waited until they had left before he sighed in exasperation and finally accepted the comm call that had been pinging in his HUD throughout the session._

 _ **Any luck in there?**_ _Ironhide asked._

 _Prime almost shook his head in response, but caught himself._ _ **Soundwave has always been Megatron's most loyal officer, and that hasn't changed in the wake of the Spiralis Disaster. I don't know why the Council is insisting we interrogate him.**_

' _ **Cause they know anythin' Starscream says is fulla slag,**_ _Ironhide replied._ _ **Sounders' info's gonna be more accurate.**_

 _ **If he chooses to give it… and he's made it abundantly clear he won't. And I refuse to get rough with him like Xaaron has suggested. Even prisoners deserve to be treated with respect.**_

 _ **Huh… dunno if I'd do the same in yer situation, Prime.**_ _But he didn't press the issue._ _ **What happens now?**_

 _ **Soundwave is sent to Cybertron with the rest of the New Proximus prisoners. In the meantime, we continue the search. There are only so many places Megatron could have run this far out in space, unless he chooses to take his chances by fleeing into Unknown Space. I hope he hasn't gotten that desperate yet.**_

 _ **He's outta henchmechs, outta hidin' places… who knows WHAT he's thinkin' at this point?**_ _Ironhide growled in frustration, then his voice unexpectedly softened._ _ **Any news from home on your end?**_

 _ **Perhaps… I take it you've received news of your own?**_ _Prime couldn't help but chuckle. If Ironhide's eager tone was any indication, then that "news from home" most likely involved Zinc somehow._

 _His instincts proved correct - the next message from the red mech was a video file of Zinc sitting in the main living area of the family's apartment, her yellow paint job completely obscured by a coating of engine grease. Said grease was smeared all over the floor, walls, and viewscreen as well, and smudges of it dappled the nearest window. Muffled giggles accompanied the video as it panned across the room to take in the damage, then focused back on the grinning sparkling._

" _This one's on me, sweetspark," Chromia managed through her laughter. "But I'm saving the next mess for when you get home."_

 _ **Oh my… she's going to be a handful,**_ _Prime noted._

 _ **Aw, she's worth it,**_ _Ironhide insisted, his voice glowing with pride._ _ **'Sides, can't tell me your Orion ain't gotten up to shenanigans either.**_

 _Prime laughed, recalling the images Elita had sent him just a few hours ago - images of Orion proudly showing off a stuffed petrorabbit that he'd methodically gutted of its stuffing, with the accompanying message of "this child had better grow up to be a surgeon because we better not be raising a serial killer."_ He's had his share. Pity we haven't been there to see them in person.

 _ **All th' more reason t' catch Megs fast. So we can be there with our kids.**_

 _ **Too true, Ironhide. Too true.**_ _He drew his shoulders back and left the room._ _ **Meet me at the gunship. The search continues.**_

* * *

Caliber roused, his head pounding as if Paddles had been using it as a punching bag. His optics refused to focus, and his CPU scrabbled madly to regain its bearings. Vaguely he remembered leaving the bookstore, and irrationally his first fear was that he'd managed to drop the book he'd just purchased during…

Memory slammed back into place, and he gasped and jerked to his feet… or tried to. Thick chains bound him into a chair, and all he could do was lurch forward as far as his restraints allowed.

"Ah, the son of Megatron has awakened." The voice was rich and resonant, as smooth and golden as high-quality oil, but with an undercurrent of menace that chilled him to the core. "Good… very good."

Caliber forced his optics into a hard reboot and stared at his captor. A tall, broad-shouldered mech stared back at him from across a cramped and dimly-lit chamber, reclining in a chair of his own with his arms folded across his massive chest. Black and violet and silver, with cannons and thick tank treads bulking up his shoulders, his entire frame spoke of lethal strength and power. Deep scratches and dents in his armor did nothing to detract from the aura of menace he projected - if anything, they only made him look all the more dangerous.

It was the mech's face that made Caliber's internals quake - or rather, the mask that concealed his face. Said mask bore the sharply angled, sinister shape of the Decepticon sigil, with fiery red optics blazing through the sockets. It should have looked absolutely ridiculous, and if Orion had been here he might have burst out laughing… but somehow it just looked terrifying on this mech.

His captor looked him over for a long moment, then dropped to one knee, bowing low. "My apologies for the rough introduction, Son of Megatron. But my comrade feared you would be… less than willing to approach us of your own accord. I assure you that if you cooperate, we can remove the chains very soon."

Caliber recoiled as far as the chair and bonds would allow. "Don't bow to me. Please. I… I'm not who you think I am."

"You are Caliber of Kaon, son of Megatron, heir to the Decepticon Empire," the mech replied, rising to his feet. "You were taken in and raised by Optimus Prime, and have spent the majority of your life in Iacon. Am I wrong?"

Caliber couldn't argue with that. "Who… who are you?"

"Ah… forgive me, my young liege. How rude of me not to introduce myself." Another sweeping bow. "Tarn, leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, may their souls rest in the Allspark. At your service."

Caliber's spark froze in his chest. _Tarn…_ he'd heard horror stories about this mech and his sadistic Justice Division - stories that had barely been hinted at in their history classes but gleefully circulated among the sparklings like tales of monsters and boogeymechs. The five of them had blazed a trail of terror and destruction across the galaxy, torturing and slaughtering any Decepticon who showed any sign of disloyalty towards their leader and cause. And their commander was the most fearsome monster of them all, his zealotry and his ability to kill with his voice making him the stuff of nightmares.

Some small part of his CPU relaxed, insisting that Tarn's complete devotion to Megatron meant he wasn't in danger. The rest of him quailed in terror, the knowledge that he sat before one of the worst war criminals in Decepticon history blanking out his CPU.

"You're frightened," Tarn noted, his optics gleaming with amusement. "That's a natural reaction… but trust me when I say I won't hurt you. I would sooner tear out my own spark than put a scratch on the son of Megatron."

 _And shoving a stun baton in my neck and chaining me up wasn't hurting me?_ Caliber dearly wanted to say that out loud, but he lacked Orion's gift of sass and so just voiced the next question to cross his CPU. "Then why am I here? What do you want with me?"

Tarn rumbled, and Caliber recoiled before realizing the sound wasn't a growl but a chuckle. "Here I was told you were exceptionally bright for your age. You should know very well why we want you. You are the heir to the Decepticon Empire, after all."

A pit seemed to open in his tanks at that. He'd been dealing with the consequences of being Megatron's son all his life, but he'd never really thought that his heritage actually gave him a rank among the Decepticons. It had never occurred to him that there might be Decepticons who actually saw him as a potential leader, who not only expected but _wanted_ him to follow in his father's footsteps and take control of his Empire.

It was a bewildering thought… and a repulsive one. "No, I'm not."

"Oh come now, don't be modest," Tarn purred. "You have a glorious destiny ahead of you, young Caliber. A destiny you can't deny. You will lead our scattered forces to victory over the Autobots, bring unity and hope to a people who have long been without either… and retake Cybertron and the Decepticon Empire once and for all!"

Caliber shook his head, anger and disgust burning away some of his fear. "I won't. I'm not Megatron. I don't WANT to pick up where he left off. I just want to go home!"

"You ARE home, young Caliber."

Fear, anger, and disgust were all swept away by a flash of pure shock. He knew that voice… but he hadn't heard it for vorns, had accepted that he would never hear it again…

Another mech stepped into view, and Tarn stepped aside to let Caliber get a good look at him. His armor had a battered, patchwork look to it - the original violet had given way to patches of gunmetal where damages had been repaired but not painted over, and the arm and leg on his right side bore mismatched replacements in tan and dark green respectively. But the single golden optic framed by silver headfins were all too familiar…

Caliber opened and shut his mouth several times before he could force out a reply: "C-Carrier?"

Shockwave nodded once, as if satisfied that he'd been recognized. "You remember me, then. Hello, Caliber. It has been a long time."

"You're… you're dead!" Caliber insisted. "The tower… the attack… they found pieces of you…"

Shockwave flexed the fingers on his right arm - an arm bulkier than the one he'd worn in Caliber's previous life, a khaki tan with clawed black fingers. "They should never have declared me killed in action without a full body as proof. I survived the attack, albeit badly damaged and in stasis. By the time Tarn found me in the ruins and reactivated me, you were long gone. I had given you up as dead."

Caliber stared at his carrier, shaking as a dozen different emotions pounded at his spark at once. But before he could voice any of them, Shockwave gestured to Tarn with his gun-hand.

"Cut him loose, but stand guard over him in case he attempts something foolish. Caliber… follow me. It is time you learned the truth about your destiny."

* * *

The apartment was so crowded Orion couldn't twitch without bumping into someone, yet he'd never felt so alone. The adults seemed to pass by him as if he didn't exist, focused on their own conversations or on talking to his parents. Part of him welcomed the solitude, wanting to be left alone to process his own thoughts and chaotic emotions, but part of him wanted to jump to his feet and scream for attention. It was his brother that was missing, after all - didn't he deserve to be comforted too?

When Caliber had failed to return home from his trip to the shopping district, Orion hadn't been terribly worried at first. Especially since he'd planned on stopping by a bookstore or two - it would be like him to get so stuck in a book that the shopkeeper would have to kick him out so he could close the store. But Prime had been less dismissive and tried to contact him… only to receive no answer.

That had been the first time Orion had ever seen his father panic. And it had only been the beginning of what was quickly becoming a nightmare. Mechs and femmes packed the house - friends of his father, who had worked with him during the war - and each seemed determined to offer their advice or words of comfort.

 _I wouldn't mind the full house so much if Zinc were here, or Glory or Rhapsody. Pit, even Paddles or Soar, or Alpine._ But the other young mechs and femmes had been left home, as if Caliber's disappearance had all the adults paranoid about a possible kidnapper on the loose. Which was silly, in Orion's mind, but he wasn't about to cause a fuss by saying it aloud.

"We'll find 'im," Jazz assured Prime, sitting down on the couch next to his commander. "He ain't the kinda kid to run off an' go missin', right? Probably just took a shortcut home an' got lost."

Prime shook his head, optics clouded with worry. "He's not answering our calls. He's never been that irresponsible. If it was Orion, I might accept that he's choosing not to answer, but this is Caliber we're talking about."

 _I'm right here, I can hear you,_ Orion wanted to snap, but he just remained in his chair and bristled quietly.

"Just got off the horn with Swerve," Blaster announced, hand still touching the side of his helm as he disconnected the call. "Hasn't seen him today."

"Have you contacted the library?" asked Prowl. "That's often his safe place when he's overwhelmed and needs to relax, or put distance between himself and a bully."

Elita nodded. "They searched the stacks. He's not there."

Prowl nodded. "Orion did mention that he was searching for a particular book. In that case, we may want to expand our search. Contact bookstores and see if he's transacted business or browsed there."

"I can handle that if you want," Windblade offered.

Prime shook his head. "I appreciate the generosity, Windblade, but you don't need to. This is our family's business."

"That doesn't mean we can't help," Piston insisted. "Caliber is Glory's friend. She'd want us to help. And we know you'd do the same if it was Glory who went missing."

"Th-thank you," Elita murmured. "That means more to us than you can know."

"Dinobots will search the streets!" Grimlock thundered, punching a fist into his palm. "Sniff him out! Nobody dare hurt him with us on their trail!"

"Who would WANT to hurt him, though?" Hound protested. "He's a perfectly good kid. He's never caused trouble or gotten involved with the wrong kind of crowd…"

"He's the son'a Megatron," Ironhide growled. "That's excuse enough fer some mechs. An' just 'cause a kid don't cause problems don't mean trouble can't find 'em. Sad, but true."

"Have we at least called the police?" asked Piston.

"We have," Elita replied. "But… they're dragging their feet in getting started. They seem to think that because he's in an adult chassis and not a sparkling, he's in less danger."

"The statistics, I'm sorry to say, are on their side," Prowl noted. "Law enforcement put missing-sparkling cases as top priority, but a newly upgraded mech is assumed to be a runaway or missing of their own accord rather than abducted. And I hate to say it, but the fact that he's Caliber could have something to-"

" _Thank you,_ Prowl," Prime snarled, shutting the white-and-black mech up mid-sentence. "That'll be enough of THAT talk.."

Orion squirmed in his chair as he watched Optimus drape an arm around Elita, pulling her to his side. He was so used to seeing his parents so strong in the face of every crisis, calm and knowing and collected no matter what two sparklings and an entire planet's worth of trouble threw their way, that seeing them so frightened and fragile bothered him on a deep level. They should be the strong ones, the pillar he could lean on… not like this. Not close to tears and clinging to each other as if they'd drift away at the slightest gust of wind.

 _Why is everyone just sitting here anyhow?_ he thought. _We should be out looking for him, not moping or arguing! He could be lost, he could be hurt, he could have been abducted by the Council so they could torture him into joining the Autobots…_

A hand rested on his shoulder, making him yelp and jump in his seat.

"Easy, Orion," Mirage urged. "It's just me."

Orion vented deeply and settled back into his chair. "Sorry… you spooked me. Um… how's Alpine?"

Mirage frowned. "Fine… at home researching his upgrade. But that's not what has you worried."

Orion narrowed his optics. "Suddenly you're a telepath?" He knew his father would have blown a gasket had he heard him sassing one of his former comrades, but at the moment he didn't care.

"No, but I was a spy, and as such I've learned how to read a mech." Mirage squeezed his shoulder. "We're all worried about Caliber, Orion. And I know it has to be hard on you - you see him as a brother. But go easy on your parents - they see him as a son. They would be just as broken and worried if it was you, you know."

Orion stared at the blue-and-white noble. He'd always sided with Alpine in his assessment of the mech - an attentive father, but a little stuck up and more than a little overprotective. But this was a new side to him, an observant and caring side he hadn't really seen before.

"Perhaps you can see what you can do to help them, instead of sulking in a corner?" Mirage suggested. "It will help you as well as them. Doing something productive in a crisis is better than stewing about it, after all."

He nodded. "Thanks, Mirage."

"You're welcome." Mirage patted his shoulder, then walked off to talk to Elita.

Orion stared down at his hands, pondering Mirage's words. The spy was right, fraggit - just sitting here moping wasn't doing Caliber or his parents any good. He had to do something. And while Mirage probably meant for him to go comfort his parents or simply stay out from underfoot while the adults handled things, that didn't feel like enough to him. He wanted to be proactive, to go find his brother, to track down whoever might have hurt him and punch them in the face!

He looked around, ensuring that no one was watching, then rose from his chair and quietly slipped off to the front door. The adults might have checked Swerve's bar and the library, but he and Caliber had plenty of other favorite haunts, some the adults probably didn't know about. The rooftop where most of their races started, for example, or the shop where they had first dared each other to try Green Energon (an experiment that had ended with both of them grounded and Orion violently purging his tanks after the first few sips). Maybe he'd left a clue there, or was even hiding there, injured and waiting for rescue…

He'd made it as far as the apartment building's lobby when something pinged in his comm unit, and he cursed himself for not turning it off before leaving. Busted already… and while he couldn't really blame his parents for being overprotective of their other son right now, he really didn't want to be locked in his room…

 _Looking for Caliber?_

He relaxed and grinned, sending a ping back. _Yeah. Have you seen where he's gone, Ravage?_

The black panther slipped out of a ventilation grate and landed on the lobby floor, pacing towards Orion. _I have not. But we can search together. Two sets of optics are better than one, and my sense of smell and hearing are far superior to yours._

"Thanks, furball." Orion gave the cassette a brief scratch behind the audial receptors before hurrying out of the building, Ravage at his heels. "Where'd you see him last?"

 _Just outside Shelf Life, the bookstore on 280th Street. He was heading home, then spotted a street fight and ducked into an alley. He didn't come out the other side, and by the time I entered the alleyway itself, he was gone._

"Should I be creeped out that you guys are still following Caliber around all the time?"

Ravage curled his lip. _Be thankful that we care enough to want to protect him. He still has many enemies, simply because of who sparked him._

Orion couldn't argue with that. "Lead the way, Ravage. Try not to be seen, though."

 _I'm very good at not being seen,_ the cat assured him, and loped off, the magenta flier hot on his heels.


	17. All Hail Caliber

_Footsteps thumped past their hiding place, sounding far too close for comfort. Megatron worked himself further back into the niche he'd discovered in the tunnel wall, his sensory nodes screaming in pain as jagged rock dug into his joints. He couldn't make out his pursuers - if he could see them, chances were they'd be able to see him - but he knew from the flickering of the shadows that they were pacing back and forth in front of the fissure, prowling the tunnels for any sign of him._

 _Caliber squirmed against his chest, and he rested a hand on the sparkling's back to calm him. They'd come this far together. Just a little farther, and perhaps they'd be out of the Autobots' reach for good. He could only hope they had the strength and fuel reserves to make it that far._

 _Disgust roiled in Megatron's spark, albeit disgust tangled with fear. He shouldn't be cowering like a scraplet in the dark - he should be using this place as an ambush, bursting out with his cannon armed to mow down his pursuers in a blaze of glory. And if they took him down with them… well, better to die a martyr than to live a coward._

 _He clenched his jaw and fought back the itch to spring forward and start firing. His life was not the only one on the line. He had his son to protect now… and if keeping Caliber safe meant taking the coward's way out, so be it. His son's life meant far more than his honor now… whatever was left of his honor, at any rate._

" _No sign of 'im, Prime!" Jazz's voice rang through their hiding place, so close that he had to be standing right outside the crack in the wall. "Musta snuck out one'a the side exits we missed."_

" _I thought we blew all the exits to this place up!" Sideswipe retorted, his voice comfortingly faint in comparison. "That was the point of this fraggin' mission - pen him in and herd him towards the main exit so we can scoop him up!"_

" _This place is a retrorat's nest," Ratchet grumbled, sounding closer but not as close as the saboteur. "My guess is there's some crack in the mountain we missed and he wiggled his way out there."_

" _Ain't you a ray of sunshine, Doctor Horrible," Sideswipe retorted._

" _Don't you start with me, punk," Ratchet growled._

 _Caliber whimpered softly, shaking against his father's chest. Megatron gave the softest hiss of his vocalizer to shush him, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him before the Autobots heard the sound and investigated. Thank Primus - if the deity even existed or cared about Cybertronian affairs anymore - that the Autobots were too caught up in their bickering to hear the sparkling's noise of distress._

" _Orders, Prime?" Megatron didn't quite recognize that speaker - Mirage, perhaps?_

" _Do one more sweep of the tunnels," Prime replied. "Go in pairs - I don't want anyone facing Megatron alone, especially if he's cornered and feels he has nowhere left to run. Alert everyone the moment you find a trace of him. If we find no trace, then we assume he escaped and move on."_

" _Roger, Wilco - I mean Prime," Jazz answered. "We'll find 'im, don't worry. Not a lotta places left for him to go…"_

 _Megatron stilled his fans as the Autobots trooped past his hiding place, not daring to move a servo. Caliber shivered in his arms but held as still as possible, optic shuttered squeezed shut and face tucked against his father's chest. They were in for a long wait… but if they could just hang on until the Autobots returned to their gunship and left, they stood a chance._

Let them find nothing… please. We swept up our footprints, left no refuse or scraps behind… let them find nothing…

 _Prime's voice nearly made Caliber jump in place, but he bravely held his vocalizer. The Autobot commander didn't stand directly in front of their hiding place, but was close enough that they could hear every word clearly._

" _I doubt you can hear me, Megatron," he said, his voice calm and almost friendly. "But if you can… I encourage you to turn yourself in. Let this end. It can't be pleasant for you… and it only prolongs the inevitable. Let Cybertron find the closure it deserves."_

 _And with that, Prime strode deeper into the tunnels, leaving Megatron behind to ponder his words. Had his old foe known he was hiding there and decided to offer him a choice? Or was he just thinking out loud to satisfy his own personality quirks?_

 _Caliber nuzzled more firmly against his chest, and Megatron hugged him closer. They were so close to an escape. They couldn't give up now. Unknown Space lay just beyond this next star system - if they could make it that far…_

* * *

Caliber knew he should be keeping an optic out for an escape attempt - looking for exits, or for an opportunity to slip away from Tarn and Shockwave and make a break for it. But his CPU was still stumbling over the fact that he was in the presence of the leader of the DJD and his carrier - _his carrier -_ and he couldn't seem to process anything past those facts. He could only dumbly walk along as the two escorted him down a corridor, deeper into whatever lair they'd dragged him to.

 _My carrier… he survived… all these years I missed him and he was still alive!_ He didn't have many fond memories of the mech - Shockwave had never been affectionate, and so long as Caliber wasn't actually ill or starving he hadn't troubled himself too much with his care - but his supposed death had still left an ache in his spark that had never quite healed. You were supposed to care about the mechs who created you, weren't you? And you could still miss them even if they hadn't been warm or kind, right?

"You've been quiet," Shockwave noted, turning to regard him. "What are you thinking?"

Caliber hesitated, then blurted the words out that had continued to rattle through his processer. "Where were you all this time, carrier? Where have you been? Why did you never come to find me? Or did you think I was dead too?"

Shockwave's headfins flickered, and Caliber wracked his CPU trying to remember what expression that signified. "The time for our reunion wasn't right. I had to ensure the Decepticon Resistance was well-established before I made contact with you again."

"Resistance?" he repeated.

"Oh dear… you mean to tell me you don't know, young mech?" Tarn asked, his optics flaring in surprise. "I thought for sure your father would have told you. You do visit him still, do you not?"

"Yeah… but he never talked to me about a Resistance. He never even mentioned the Justice Division, or any hint that my carrier was still alive!"

Tarn snorted. "I suppose I see how highly I rate with our beloved leader. Though I'm not offended - he has more pressing matters to worry about."

"As for the Resistance… that was always the plan should the war end in the Autobots' favor." Shockwave returned his attention to their path, leading them on a twisting path through rusted, labyrinthine corridors straight out of one of Orion's favorite video games. "The cause was not to die with Megatron, nor crumble with the Decepticon Empire. Should, for whatever reason, the Autobots defeat us, we were to continue on."

"We were to rebel," Tarn added, his voice rich and vibrant with excitement, gesturing grandly as he walked. "To rise again. To shake off the ashes of defeat and flame with glory in our re-ascension. Megatron's cause will not be snuffed out - it will burn forever, and scorch our enemies off the face of the universe!"

Caliber shuddered at Tarn's words - partly with horror, but partly with wonder at the passion and conviction within them. He had heard stories about the power of Tarn's voice, and he had to wonder whether it was the charisma of his presence or his outlier ability that was making his entire chassis thrill with excitement at his words.

"Tone down the melodrama, Tarn," Shockwave replied crisply, seeming completely unaffected by the larger mech's ecstacy. "The Decepticon Resistance was a contingency plan should the Autobots defeat us. Whatever officers remained in power would retreat and reconvene in designated gathering places beneath Cybertron's surface, and accumulate the resources needed to continue the war - in secret if need be."

Caliber shook his head. "Dad never talked to me about any of this."

"Your father was quite dismissive of the plan," Shockwave informed him. "He was confident that the Annihilator would win the war, and that no contingency plan was required. I judged it necessary to have appropriate backups in place just in case. And after the Annihilator failed and Polyhex and Kaon fell to the Autobots, the backups were set into motion. It took longer than I had estimated to reach this point - the Spiralis Disaster's effects reduced our numbers and resources far more drastically than originally predicted - but we are finally ready to launch our Decepticon Resistance."

Despite technically being a captive to these two mechs, Caliber couldn't suppress a burst of hope. "Is… is the Resistance going to try to free Megatron? Are you going to rescue my father?" He shouldn't be hoping for a jailbreak, he knew his father was guilty of terrible crimes, but still…

Tarn and Shockwave exchanged a long look, and despite one's face being covered and the other not even having a proper face, he decided he didn't like their expressions. There was something they weren't saying aloud, that they were dancing around as if not judging him ready…

"We are not yet to that point," Shockwave replied carefully. "But before the Resistance can begin in earnest, we need something from you, Caliber."

Dread congealed in his tanks at those words. "What… what do you need from me?"

Shockwave led him down a corridor that terminated in a set of heavy doors, their metal pitted and scarred with age. He scanned the ID chip in his violet arm over a scanner, and the doors ground ponderously open, like the gates of a castle in a fantasy movie.

"For you to embrace your destiny," his carrier answered. "For you to follow in your sire's footsteps and lead the Resistance."

Caliber stared as the doors finished opening with a resounding clang. The massive chamber they looked in on was more of a cavern than an actual room, with rough unfinished walls and a ragged ceiling. Stacks of crates lined the walls and were scattered about the floor like the building blocks he and Orion had once played with, some of them broken open and spilling their contents of weapons and ammunition cells on the floor. Mechs slipped between the stacks, their colors and frames only slightly discernable in the dim light, some inspecting crate labels and making notes on datapads while others inspected guns or counted energy cells. There was no chatter from the mechs, no shared conversation, only intense concentration on whatever tasks they were carrying out.

"What… what is this?" Caliber asked.

Tarn gave a liquid chuckle and stepped into the chamber, arms raised over his head. His voice boomed to the far reaches of the room, making every mech present stop what they were doing and swivel their head around to watch.

"My fellow Decepticons!" he thundered, his voice at once enthralling and frightening. "Those of you whom have proven your loyalty to the cause, who remain devoted to the ideals Megatron preached instead of betraying him by falling into the slavery of Autobot asylum! The day has come! Our new leader has risen to take his place at the forefront of our movement, a movement that will shake Cybertron to its foundations and restore faith in the cause once and for all!"

Shockwave gripped Caliber's shoulder and steered him into the chamber. Tarn clapped a hand on his other shoulder and gestured grandly toward the bewildered young mech with his free hand.

"Behold - Caliber, son of Megatron, heir to the Decepticon throne and the new leader of the Decepticon Resistance! All hail Caliber!"

The mechs threw their fists in the air, repeating the chant until it echoed off the ceiling of the chamber. _"All hail Caliber! All hail Caliber!"_

Shockwave and Tarn turned to face Caliber, still gripping his shoulders. Perhaps they expected him to react with glee or triumph at seeing an army, however small, awaiting his command. But all he felt was a deep and all-consuming horror.

* * *

Ravage skidded to a stop at a warehouse on the outskirts of Kaon, mouth hanging open as he vented fast and hard to cool his systems. It had been a long, grueling run, one that twisted through back alleys and rusted sectors in order to avoid detection. And it hadn't helped that he'd been tailed by a bright magenta flier who apparently had no stealth programming whatsoever. But they'd made it without being followed, and if they came out of this with Caliber intact, that was all that mattered.

Orion touched down nearby, transforming to robot mode. "You all right, Fluffy?"

 _I'm not fluffy, and yes. Just… overheated a bit. Give me a moment and I'll be fine._

Orion looked around. "So this is Kaon. Somehow I imagined it looking creepier."

 _And what gives you THAT idea?_

"Well… it was abandoned for several years, right? And it got hit with fallout from the Spiralis Disaster… I guess I expected it to look more run-down and melted. Like something out of an apocalypse movie."

Ravage snorted. Trust the Autobot youngling to have such a simple view of things. Yes, Kaon had suffered heavy damage during the Annihilator meltdown, and it had lain abandoned for some time after the war had come to a close. But the Decepticons who had asked for asylum from the Autobots - or struck plea deals in exchange for release - had made great strides in restoring the city. Some towers still stood at precarious angles from the acid eating at their foundations, and even the warehouse they had just reached bore stains and burned patches on its ferrocrete walls. But scaffolding enveloped those damaged towers as mechs worked to repair them, and the rumble of construction crews at work rose from various places in the city.

Kaon had a long way to go before it was fully restored… but the city was healing. And Ravage hoped to be able to see it reach its former glory someday. But that was a hope for another time.

 _I'll give you a proper history lesson later, youngling,_ Ravage told him. _For now, let's find your brother._

Orion nodded. "Are you sure this is the place?"

 _The scent trail leads here,_ he replied. _Caliber's… and another's._

"Anyone you know?"

 _Yes._ He opted to leave it at that. He would recognize the stench of Tarn anywhere - his unique scent signature was tainted with the char of burned-out transformation cogs - but he felt it best not to let Orion know that little tidbit yet. No sense making the youngster panic.

"So what are we waiting for?" Orion demanded. "Let's go in and rescue him!"

 _Dial it down, youngling,_ Ravage ordered. _Let me go first. Once I'm sure this isn't a trap, I'll signal you._

Orion growled in frustration but nodded, and hung back as the panther slunk into the warehouse. As he'd expected, the place was empty - whatever this building had once contained had long ago been emptied out or looted. All that remained was a layer of dust and the thin fiber-optic threads of the webs of silicon-spiders.

Ravage lowered his head to the floor, padding back and forth in an effort to pick up the trail again. The dust clogged his olfactory vents, and he had to lift his muzzle and blow air out in a "sneeze" several times to clear them, but his search was soon rewarded by a faint thread of scent… one that followed a trail of disturbed dust, as if someone had left tracks and made an effort to sweep them up.

 _Amateurs,_ he thought, and radioed Orion. _Come in. The coast is clear, and I have a trail._

Orion burst into the room. "Where is he?!"

 _Not here, obviously. This warehouse is only an entrance._

"An entrance to what?"

In answer Ravage paused at the point where the trail ended, hooking a claw into a nearly-invisible crack in the floor and pulling. A trapdoor swung open, revealing a set of steep iron stairs.

"Whoa… it's like some secret villain's lair," Orion murmured. "Um… is it safe to go down there?"

 _No,_ Ravage replied. _You're free to turn back now if you don't feel up to this, Orion. It could be dangerous down here. If you choose to leave, alert your parents and come back with backup of some kind._

Immediately he realized that was the wrong thing to say. Orion drew himself up straight, wings high, optics glowing with a steady, determined light.

"I'm going with you," he insisted. "My brother's down there. I'm not going to just run and abandon him!"

Ravage sighed deeply, regarding the young flier with a mixture of exasperation and pride. He was his father's son, all right - compassionate and determined, and reckless to a fault. Hopefully he'd also inherited his father's enormous lucky streak as well.

 _Stay close,_ he ordered. _You don't happen to have a weapon, do you?_

"Um… no. I didn't think to grab one before coming down here."

 _No matter. With any luck, we won't need one._ If they were truly facing Tarn down here they would definitely need one, but he didn't tell Orion that. If worse came to worse, he'd hold off the tankformer and give the young mech a chance to grab his brother and escape. He just hoped Tarn was down here alone, and hadn't managed to recruit new members for the band of lunatics he called a Justice Division yet.

He padded down the stairs, Orion clumping heavily behind him. The stairs ended in a pitted steel door with a small scanner set in the doorframe. At first glance the door looked to have been unused for centuries… but the scanner looked clean and newly installed, betraying its recent re-use.

"It's locked," Orion groaned.

 _How observant of you,_ Ravage noted, and he stood on his hind legs, planting his paws on either side of the scanner. The scanner blinked green once, and the door slid open.

"How did you do that?" Orion demanded.

 _Just an educated guess,_ Ravage replied. _If Caliber was abducted by Decepticons, it makes sense that a Decepticon ID chip would be needed to open this door. Had it rejected my chip, we would have known that Autobots had taken him and used your ID._

"But… why would Decepticons kidnap Caliber? His parents were Decepticons! Pit, his dad's Megatron! They should be treating him with respect, not dragging him Pit-knows-where!"

 _Not all Decepticons revere Megatron,_ Ravage replied as he padded down the corridor, Orion close on his heels. _Plenty sought to overthrow him and take his place, and many hated him after the Spiralis Disaster - many of the victims were Decepticons, after all. With Megatron in prison, it's entirely possible some faction of Decepticons wants to take their anger out on Caliber._

"Then let's hurry!" Orion insisted. "Before he gets hurt!"

Ravage was about to tell Orion to have some patience and mute his vocalizer when voices echoed down the corridor. They were faint, but the cadence and rhythm of them were unmistakable, reminding Ravage of the first Decepticon rallies he and Soundwave had attended many vorns ago… the sound of mechs chanting.

"What's going on?" Orion murmured, sounding nervous for the first time.

 _Nothing good._ Ravage bolted ahead, leaving the younger mech to run after him. The corridor twisted and turned, and several times he had to pause at an intersection of halls to sniff out the right path. All the while the chanting grew louder and clearer, sending a shiver through Ravage's internals.

" _All hail Caliber! All hail Caliber! All hail Caliber…"_

"Ravage… what's going on?" Orion's voice trembled slightly, despite all his attempt at clinging to his youthful bravado. "That doesn't sound like a bunch of 'Cons who hate Megatron."

 _No… it's something worse._ And he led Orion around one last corner.

* * *

Orion slipped around the corner… and felt his jaw drop in shock. He had expected to find Caliber in chains, being tortured or beaten by a gang of Decepticon punks. But instead he found a room full of soldiers chanting his name, cheering him on like a lightball team shouting for their star player. Caliber himself was flanked by two fearsome-looking mechs, like bodyguards or henchmechs, and though Orion couldn't see his face from this angle, it wasn't hard to imagine how a young mech might react to that kind of attention.

" _All hail Caliber! All hail Caliber!"_

"Yes, my friends!" the taller of the henchmechs declared, waving a hand in theatrical fashion. "The son of Megatron has returned to us! And he will lead us to glory once again, and CRUSH those pathetic Autobots who dare to take Cybertron out from under us! We will rise again!"

" _All hail Caliber! All hail Caliber!"_

The other mech, a violet being with one tan arm and one dark green leg, raised an arm that terminated in a cannon instead of a hand, and the room slowly quieted. "Caliber, step forward. Address your soldiers. Then we shall retire to the war room and discuss our plan of action."

Caliber staggered forward as both mechs released their grips on his shoulders at once, then straightened and regarded the crowd. The Decepticons gazed at him with eager optics and bated fans, awaiting his next words.

Orion would always be the first to defend his brother when mechs started accusing him of following in his father's footsteps… but for one awful moment he feared what would come out of Caliber's vocalizer. For the pulse of a spark, he wondered if perhaps his brother didn't hunger for power after all, if this was the opportunity he'd always longed for - to take his father's place as the leader of the Decepticons.

But the words that emerged from the young mech's vocalizer shattered that fear.

"I don't want this." He turned to face the mech with the mismatched limbs, his expression afraid and desperate. "Carrier, I don't want to lead these mechs. I'm not my father. I'm not going to continue his legacy."

Caliber's carrier - his _carrier?_ \- stared at him, headfins pinning back like Ravage's audials when he was annoyed with some antic or other. "You do not know what you are saying, Caliber. This is your destiny, what you were sparked and created for. You are Megatron's heir, and as such you are to continue where your sire left off-"

"I refuse." Caliber set his jaw, frightened but stubborn as he stared down his carrier. "My father told me that mechs were allowed to choose their own destinies. Well, I DON'T choose this!"

The mechs within the chamber began to murmur amongst themselves. Orion didn't have to be the most observant of mechs to sense the tensions rising among them.

"Yes, young Caliber," the taller mech noted with a dark chuckle. "It's a daunting responsibility. But we're confident you'll rise to the challenge."

"No… I won't." Caliber set his shoulders back, his rotors twitching with a fear he was struggling not to show in his face. "Take me home, Carrier. I'm not going to lead your revolution."

His carrier's single optic blazed as he spoke, his tones cold with fury. "I'm afraid, Caliber, that you operate under the delusion that you have a choice in the matter. Tarn, escort him to the war room. Cuffed, if you have to."

The bigger mech - _holy slag that was TARN? -_ nodded and reached out to grab Caliber's arms.

Orion didn't stop to think. He stormed into the room and shoved the cyclopic mech aside, grabbing Caliber's arm.

"Leave my brother alone, you fraggers!"

Caliber stared at him, optics ablaze with shock. Tarn stared down at him with more amusement than anger, while Caliber's carrier pricked his headfins up in interest.

"Orion of Iacon, son of Optimus Prime. This day just got very interesting."

Ravage's tone over the radio was thick with exasperation - _you idiot._


	18. Edge of Unknown

" _Daddy?"_

 _Megatron had been standing in the doorway of the ramshackle building that he and Caliber had taken refuge in, scanning the horizon for potential threats, but that small voice drew his gaze down. The sparkling stood at his side, one hand resting on his father's leg, the other clutching his stuffed griffon by one leg. His amber optics were wide and bright… and full of a trust that made Megatron's throat tubing clench._

" _Go inside, Caliber," Megatron ordered gently. "I'll be in shortly."_

 _Caliber nodded. "Are we gonna go home soon?"_

 _His throat clenched again, and he responded with yet another lie in the vast sea of lies his reign had become. "Not today, Caliber. But with any luck, soon."_

" _Okay." He patted his father's leg and wandered back into the building._

 _Megatron allowed himself one last sweep of the horizon, taking in the rocky, nameless world that had become their refuge. They had happened upon this building purely by chance, staggering through its doorway exhausted and close to shutdown. Perhaps it had once been a prospector's camp, or just the home of an extremely antisocial hermit… but any former occupants had vanished, leaving behind a few crates of equipment and - miraculously - a few cubes of energon, harsh-tasting but a lifesaving elixir for the two fleeing mechs._

 _He stepped back from the doorway, shutting the door behind him. His hands trembled, and he squeezed them into fists to still them. Slaggit, he couldn't show weakness around his son. Not now… not until he knew the sparkling had a chance at safety._

 _They were on the very fringes of known space now - another day's travel would take them into the Unknown Regions. Such a leap into the unknown could mean safety… or instant death. He had no way of knowing, but had he been traveling on his own he might have risked it. If what he found in unexplored space was deadly… well, better to die on his own terms than let himself be taken._

 _But he wasn't alone. Caliber was his first priority. And now that it was clear that they were at the end of their flight, it was time he did the right thing for once. For his son's sake._

 _Caliber was in the innermost chamber of the shack, sitting on the thin sleeping pad and chattering away at his griffon plush. Megatron fetched their last cube of energon and sat down beside him. The jagged crack in his side, a memento from Bluestreak's rifle during one of their desperate escapes, sent streaks of fire along his sensory network as he moved, and he clenched his jaw to keep from hissing in pain. The wound was already deeply infected, caked with rust, but he ignored it for now._

" _Put the toy aside for now," he told Caliber, handing him the cube. "It's time to refuel."_

 _Caliber nodded and took the cube. "How much?"_

" _A quarter, no more," Megatron replied. "This has to last us awhile."_

 _The sparkling looked down at the cube, then back up at his father. "Did you drink any, Daddy?"_

" _I'll refuel when you sleep," Megatron assured him. "Now drink."_

 _Caliber nodded and drank, carefully watching each swallow to make sure he didn't take more than the allotted quarter. Megatron would take a sip or two later, no more, to ensure he didn't fall into stasis lock before he could do what needed to be done for his son. And he would dilute what was left, to make it stretch as long as possible. It wouldn't last forever… but hopefully it would be enough._

" _Done, Daddy." He handed the cube back. "Time for recharge?"_

" _Soon," Megatron replied. "We need to talk, first."_

 _Caliber gazed up into his optics, and despite his young age he seemed to read the seriousness in his father's face. "What is it, Daddy?"_

" _The Autobots," he replied, and frowned as Caliber shivered in fright. "I know… they have chased us for a long time. But they won't hurt you. They've fought against our people for countless stellar cycles, but they don't hurt sparklings."_

" _Will they hurt you?" Caliber asked._

 _Megatron hated ignoring a direct question from his son, but the truth would only frighten him further. "If the Autobots come… go with them."_

" _But Daddy…"_

" _Don't fight them," Megatron urged, "and don't run. Go with them." He rested his hands on the sparkling's shoulders. "They will be kind to you, and will take care of you while I'm gone. Do you understand me?"_

 _Caliber shivered under his hands. "Where are you going, Daddy?"_

" _Nowhere for now… but I may have to go soon. Can you do what I asked you if I have to leave you? Do you understand?"_

 _From the puzzled look on his son's face, Megatron knew he didn't fully understand - he was a child, he couldn't comprehend the one mech who had been the foundation of his life abandoning him. But he nodded anyhow. "Yes, Daddy."_

" _Good." He squeezed his shoulders lightly, then let his hands drop. "Rest, little one. I'll watch over you."_

" _Okay." Caliber lay down, curling up on the sleeping pad with his griffon hugged tightly against his chest._

 _Megatron pulled the thermal blanket over him, tucking him in and rubbing his back until he slipped into recharge. And he continued to sit with him throughout the night, just watching him rest. He had no idea how much time he had left before the Autobots came and separated them forever, and he wanted to make each astrosecond count._

* * *

Elita emerged from Orion's bedroom, optics bright with fear. "He's not here. Nothing of his is gone, but there's no sign of him."

Prime had faced down countless terrifying situations - the deadly end of a gun, the eyes or optics of a predator, a friend's life in danger, a planet on the cusp of destruction. But each time he had been able to tamp down his fear and act decisively to resolve the situation. There had been times he'd broken down and vented his panic later, but in private, after the threat was gone and those he cared for were safe.

Not this time. Now, learning that both his sons were missing, panic threatened to choke him entirely. He wanted to scream, to curl up in his quarters and shake uncontrollably, to charge out into the streets and tear Iacon apart until he found his sons…

 _No. Calm down. Vent. Giving in to panic won't help anyone - not Orion or Caliber, not Elita, not yourself. You can't give in to it… not yet._

"He must have gone to find Caliber on his own," Prime said at last. "That would be like him. I just wish he'd told one of us he was going."

"He knew we would have stopped him." Elita braced herself against the doorframe, venting deeply to regain her composure. "I'm calling the police again. With both our sons missing, they HAVE to act now."

"I'll let the others know," Prime replied. "And tell those with children to return home and keep an optic on their young ones. We can't have all of them running off to search for-"

Shouts broke out in the living room, and Ironhide's voice rang out over the babble.

"Get your aft in here, Prime! We got us an escaped 'Con!"

Prime's spark sank. Why did calamities always seem to come in threes? He ducked into his and Elita's quarters, grabbed his gun from the safe, and hurried out to face this latest crisis.

"What's going on?" he demanded of Prowl as he charged into the room.

"He crawled out of a ventilation grate," Prowl explained. "Windblade spotted him and managed to put herself between him and his escape route. I doubt he expected your apartment to be quite so crowded."

"A cassette, then?" Prime frowned, suspicion pricking him. If it was who he thought it was, then perhaps this latest "crisis" was actually the arrival of an ally.

"Yes," Prowl replied. "They frequently manage to slip past the guards at the correctional facility…"

Mechs parted to give Prime a glimpse of the fugitive in question… and he immediately lowered his gun. "Hold your fire! Hound, let him go!"

Hound had tackled the rogue cassette to the floor and was wrestling him into submission, but he glanced up at Prime with a shocked expression. "But sir-"

"Let him go," Prime repeated. "I'll explain later. Ravage, whatever you do, don't run when he lets you up. I promise you that you're under my protection so long as you're in this room."

"Are you fraggin' nuts, Prime?" Ironhide growled.

"Yes I am," Prime replied. "My children stole my sanity vorns ago. Let him up, Hound."

Hound hesitated, then released Ravage and pushed himself to his feet. The panther lay on the floor a moment, limbs spread in all directions like a bearskin rug from a human cartoon, then staggered to his feet and gave himself a thorough shake.

 _That was entirely unnecessary,_ he snapped over the comms of everyone in the room.

"Don't trust Soundwave's pets!" Grimlock roared.

 _Pets,_ Ravage repeated disdainfully. _This coming from Wheeljack's own pet-_

"Enough," Prime ordered. "Autobots, Piston, Windblade, you might as well know - Ravage has been keeping an optic on Caliber, but only to keep Soundwave updated on his condition."

"That's not suspicious at all," Prowl replied, and only the tactician-turned-governor could make his voice so flat and so sarcastic all at once.

 _It isn't what you think,_ Ravage retorted, audial receptors pinned back. _Soundwave regards himself as a parental figure to Caliber - certainly more of one than Shockwave ever was. He only wants to be reassured that Caliber is safe. After all, he would hate for all the effort he put into keeping him safe to go to waste._

Prime recalled Soundwave's interrogation after his capture, and shivered at the memory of snapped wires and a missing vocalizer. "Caliber and Orion have both gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

Ravage's receptors pricked up as he turned to face Prime. _That's precisely why I'm here. I don't have an idea where they might be - I know exactly what's become of them._

The room erupted at that, shouts and demands drowning out anything else Ravage might have to say. Prime had to bellow for silence twice before the chaos finally settled.

"What's happened to them?" Elita demanded. "Who's taken our sons?"

The answer came like a punch in the abdominal plates - _Shockwave and Tarn. The former survived the destruction of his tower with help from the latter, and they intend to make an example of Orion and force Caliber to lead a second Decepticon army against Cybertron._

* * *

The Decepticon Resistance was small in numbers, but its underground network of tunnels and weapon caches sprawled beneath Kaon like a vast silicon-spider web. And Caliber knew he and Orion were thoroughly lost in said tunnels, having taken so many twists and turns that there was no hope of retracing their steps. Ravage might have been able to find the way back… but he had abandoned them what felt like hours ago. And though he knew the cassette was probably trying to find help, his departure still stung.

Not that the two of them had gotten this deep into the network of their own volition. Orion was cuffed and chained, practically being dragged by two hulking mechanisms Shockwave had introduced as Razorclaw and Strika. Caliber walked unbound… but flanked on either side by Shockwave and Tarn, who steered his course with a hand on either shoulder. He gave the illusion of walking under his own power, but knew that neither his creator nor the leader of the Justice Division had any qualms about cuffing him if he showed any sign of bolting.

Orion caught Caliber's optic and flashed a grin - a strained, frightened grin, but a grin nonetheless. Caliber didn't respond but kept his gaze on their path as they walked. He knew Orion was trying to lighten the mood and assure him that everything would turn out all right, but the gesture did nothing to settle the churning in his tanks.

"So… you guys are actual 'Cons, huh?" asked Orion, looking back and forth between the yellow-and-red mech and the magenta-and-gold femme. "Is it some kinda requirement that you have to get whacked several dozen times with the ugly stick before you're allowed to join up?"

Razorclaw responded with a blow to Orion's side that made him double over cursing. "Shut your trap, Prime-spawn, or we'll gut you here and now."

"Enough, Razorclaw," Shockwave ordered. "It is not your place to destroy the son of Optimus Prime. The honor belongs to another."

Orion's optics paled in horror, but his vocalizer kept running anyhow. "You do realize my dad is going to come down here and kick all your afts, right? Well, not Caliber's, but the rest of you. You do NOT wanna see him fragged off, trust me!"

"We are counting on your father coming here," Tarn replied, his voice rich with menace. "And we are greatly looking forward to seeing the heir of Megatron accomplish what Megatron himself never had the opportunity to do."

Caliber froze in his tracks, forcing the entire group to stop with him. "You can't… I won't! I won't kill Optimus Prime!"

Shockwave shook his head. "It's clear that your time in the care of the Autobots has softened you, Caliber. I intended to raise you and train you to be ready to assume the Decepticon throne, but Optimus Prime saw fit to undo everything I sought to accomplish when he took you in as his foundling. If we're to reverse the damage, drastic action must be taken."

Caliber shook his head, not wanting to hear this, but Shockwave continued anyhow: "Optimus Prime and Orion will perish today… at your hands. You will cut off the ties to your past with your own hands, and be free to pursue the future that is rightfully yours."

Caliber's tanks heaved, and it took all his strength not to purge them right there. "I… I won't. I refuse. Optimus Prime raised me when no one else would! Orion's like a brother to me! I can't-"

"That is precisely _why_ you must destroy them," Shockwave replied, his voice icier than Caliber had ever heard it. "Your past is a weight that will drag you down into oblivion. If you are to fully realize your destiny, you must destroy that past utterly. Only then will you be able to assume the leadership of the Decepticon Resistance."

"How many times do I have to tell you?!" Caliber shouted, wrenching free of Shockwave and Tarn's hands. "This isn't my destiny! I don't want to lead the Resistance! I want to go home, read my books, apply for medical school, argue with my brother, go to the holopics with my friends. I want my life back! Not… this!"

"You will dishonor your parents, then?" Tarn rumbled, optics narrowing behind his vicious mask. "You will throw away everything they've sacrificed and spit in their faces?"

"Technically his carrier doesn't even have a face-" Orion quipped, then grunted as Strika clobbered him in the back of the helm. "Ow… worth it…"

Caliber raised his chin, trying his hardest to look confident despite the churning in his tanks and the shaking in his struts. "Megatron is my father, and I honor him by choosing my own destiny. Optimus Prime and Elita-1 took me in when there were mechs who would have seen me imprisoned or killed, and raised me despite knowing I was the son of their worst enemy. They are my parents… and you might have carried my spark, Shockwave, but you are not my parent. Because my parent wouldn't be forcing me to murder those I care about to suit his own agenda."

Orion grinned widely. "You tell 'em, bro."

Shockwave's headfins pinned back - an expression Caliber remembered as one of deep anger. And too late he remembered that though his carrier was careful to maintain a calm facade at all times, that didn't mean he lacked emotion. And that he didn't have to fly into a frothing rage for his anger to be dangerous.

"Cuff him, Tarn," Shockwave ordered, voice so cold it could have frozen nitrogen. "Carry him the rest of the way if you must. When Optimus Prime comes, he and Orion will die at Caliber's hand… even if we must place the gun in his hand and pull the trigger for him."

* * *

Sirens ripped through the evening air as Optimus Prime, Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Ratchet sped down the highway, hot on the heels of a black feline form. The casual observer might assume that the Autobots were in pursuit of a Decepticon fugitive - an understandable observation. But Ravage was no fugitive, and the Autobots weren't giving chase but keeping pace with the cassette, letting him lead them to where he had last seen Orion and Caliber.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Sideswipe noted. "Didn't we used to kick this kitty around like a football back during the war?"

"This 'kitty' is on our side," Ratchet reminded him. "And is our key to getting Prime's kids back in one piece. Still, it's kinda surreal when you think about it."

 _If you're done with the comedic banter, I should warn you that Shockwave has an army gathered,_ Ravage informed them. _Not a large one, but you should probably have more backup than just four mechs._

"The Council has been alerted, and forces are being marshaled as we speak," Prowl replied. "We're hoping to get in and extract Orion and Caliber before fighting breaks out, though - we don't want them caught in the crossfire."

Prime couldn't help but bristle just slightly at mention of the Council. He wouldn't deny that they'd done a great deal for Cybertron since the war had come to an end, but he knew all too well their opinion of Caliber. And he feared that, while they wouldn't hesitate to rescue Orion, they'd be all too happy to consider Caliber an acceptable loss in this situation.

Ravage finally skidded to a halt outside the acid-scarred warehouse, collapsing onto his belly and panting as the Autobots pulled up and transformed. _Here… there's a trapdoor leading to their underground network. I'll go with you as soon as I've rested a moment…_

"You did well, Ravage," Prime told him, resting a hand on the cassette-panther's head. "We're in your debt… thank you."

 _Don't thank me yet. Not until Caliber and Orion are safe. Good luck to you._

"So what's the plan?" Sunstreaker asked, grimacing as he flinched away from a fiber-optic spiderweb. "There better be a plan that doesn't involve going through that trapdoor. Because going down into a tunnel network filled with vengeful Decepticons sounds like a great way to get slagged."

"Do you have a better plan, Sunspot?" Ratchet demanded.

"Some of us have actual self-preservation instincts," Sunstreaker retorted, jabbing a thumb at Sideswipe. "Unlike some idiots I could mention."

"Hey, we lived through the war, that's gotta count for something," Sideswipe shot back.

Prime opened his mouth to deliver an order - whether to shut up or to follow him down into the tunnels he hadn't decided yet - when his comm unit pinged. He raised a hand for silence and checked the unit… and felt his internals freeze.

 _Optimus Prime, respond immediately. The safety of your son is at stake._

 _Shockwave,_ he replied, and opened the channel to allow the others, Ravage included, to listen in. _You sound rather healthy for a mech who was listed as KIA._

 _We can dispense with the banter Megatron was so fond of and cut straight to the point, Optimus,_ Shockwave replied. _I have a proposition for you._

Prime exchanged a baleful look with Prowl and Ratchet. Whatever proposition Shockwave had to offer would be heavily balanced in the former Guardian of Cybertron's favor, no matter what words he spoke. If they accepted it, they would be playing right into his hands. But would they have any other choice?

 _Speak,_ Prime ordered. _What proposition?_

 _Your son is in our custody. Report to the former gladiator arena at the heart of Kaon within the next cycle, and we can negotiate the terms of his release. Refuse, and Orion of Iacon dies._ And with that, Shockwave cut the connection.

"It's a trap," Prowl said immediately. "You go there, Orion dies anyhow, and probably you with him."

"I know," Prime replied.

"But we're going anyway." It was a statement, not a question.

"We are," Prime told him. "I will not let my sons come to harm at Shockwave or Tarn's hands. Not when it's still in my power to do something to prevent it." He nodded at Prowl. "Stay here and command whatever forces the Council sends to put down the Decepticon Resistance. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, follow me to the arena. Ratchet, go to the gates of Kaon and wait for Elita-1 and her escort, then follow whatever orders she gives you."

Ratchet snorted. "You actually had the gears to demand Elita get an escort?"

"The escort isn't for her," Prime replied. "It's for whom I've asked her to fetch to help us."

* * *

Elita strode down the corridor of Kalis' high-security correctional facility, flanked on either side by guards and the warden tagging along unhappily behind her. The sight of the pink-and-white femme, elegant and sleek in stark contrast to the rugged build of the guards and other prison workers, seemed ludicrous at first glance, and more than one guard who had tried to halt Elita's progress had assumed she'd be meekly turned away at the first show of force. All of them had been stared down or turned away themselves by the steel in her spark and voice.

Elita-1 was on a mission, and Primus help the mechanism that tried to stand in her way.

"I repeat, you have no authorization to remove Megatron from his cell," Bastille snapped, hurrying after Elita. "His trial doesn't commence for another quatrex at the very least, and he's not to be removed save for pre-approved visitation-"

"Under normal circumstances," Elita replied. "But these are far from normal circumstances. And I have the authorization of Optimus Prime himself to take him into my custody."

"But do you have the authorization of the Autobot Council?" Bastille retorted.

Elita looked over her shoulder to give the warden a cool glare. "You certainly don't need the Council's authorization to allow Megatron to have visits with his son. Or to allow any number of clandestine operations to occur here. I'm fully aware of what kind of… commerce… can be allowed in a correctional facility."

Bastille's optics narrowed to slits. "Are you threatening me?"

"Merely pointing out facts," Elita replied. "If you have an issue with what I'm doing, take it up with the Prime. Otherwise, unlock the door."

Bastille snorted, then stepped forward and keyed open the door. It slid open to reveal a small cell, unfurnished save a low recessed bench built into the back and side walls. Megatron had been hunched over a datapad, absorbed in writing something, but glanced up sharply as the corridor lights flooded his cell.

"Elita-1," he noted, setting the datapad down. "This is unexpected."

Elita stepped into the cell, surprised at how little fear she had of the former Decepticon warlord - though her worry over Orion and Caliber probably had more to do with that than anything else. "Megatron, come with me. You're being temporarily released into my custody."

His optics flashed in surprise. "What's the meaning of this?"

"There's a situation in Kaon," she replied shortly. "One that we need your help in resolving."

Megatron looked ready to protest, but Elita opened a private communications channel with him. He wouldn't be able to reply over the comm - that ability was stripped from prisoners upon arrival - but she trusted he would hear and know to school his expression enough to keep Bastille from guessing what was going on.

 _Shockwave is alive, and he's kidnapped our sons._ She fought to keep her voice level, but it hitched on "sons" anyhow. _Shockwave has always listened to you - can you talk him down, and convince him to release Orion and Caliber without further oilshed?_

Megatron's optic shutters widened, and his jaw clenched in mounting fury and fear. But he composed himself remarkably quickly and gave a quick nod. He would comply.

"Cuff him for now," Elita ordered. "Then get him to the transport. I want us out of here yesterday!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The guards saluted and rushed to comply.

"Whatever you're taking him for," Bastille muttered, "it had better be worth it."

Elita knew it would be worth it… provided it succeeded. All their hopes were hinging on Megatron now, as ridiculous as it was to believe it. Now they could only hope he could convince Shockwave to do the right thing.


	19. Arena Showdown

If Orion's history classes were to be believed, the Great War had begun in this very arena, informally known throughout Kaon as the Pit. Megatron had established himself here as one of the best gladiators in all of Kaon, if not Cybertron itself, and used his charisma and fighting prowess to assemble an army of Decepticons. And his oilthirsty ways had carried from the arena to the battlefield, turning all of Cybertron into a killing field before Optimu Prime had finally ended his reign of terror.

Of course, that was history as written by the victors, Orion thought. He was sure that Megatron himself would tell a very different story if asked. Though at this rate he was going to be very lucky if he ever got a chance to ask him.

"You've gone quiet, little Autobot," Strika rumbled as she chained him to a heavy pole in the center of the arena. "Electro-cat got your vocalizer?"

Orion forced himself to grin at her. "Just struck dumb by your incredible beauty, ma'am."

Strika growled and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "Don't get cute, Auto-brat. Your charm and mouth aren't going to save you."

"Caliber would never hurt me," Orion countered. "We're brothers."

She raised an optic ridge at the "brothers" remark but didn't question it. "Shockwave thinks otherwise. And he's going to ensure Caliber does what he wants… no matter what it takes." She strode off, leaving him alone in the center of the arena.

Orion took in his surroundings, trying to find something, anything, that could help him. The Pit was pretty much what the name indicated - a crater in the crust of Kaon, rings of tiered seats surrounding a sunken oval of exposed metal. The arena floor was pitted with centuries' worth of battle scars, gouged and scratched until it looked like one could cut their pedes just by walking across it, and ugly stains marked where oil and other fluids had been spilled and never cleaned up. Several battered posts, identical to the one he was fixed to, stood about the arena, chains dangling from them.

 _That's weird… if the purpose of the arena is to watch a fight, why chain one of the combatants up? Were some of them just that good that they needed a handicap? Or… maybe it was for when they didn't WANT much of a fight. Like an execution or something…_

His tanks churned, and he abandoned that train of thought. He forced his gaze onto an announcer's box of sorts, where Shockwave stood with his hand and cannon hanging loosely at his sides. The mech's single optic remained fixed on Orion, watching him like a cyberhawk.

"Hey ugly!" he shouted, struggling to hide the quaver in his voice. "Where's my brother, you sick freak?!"

Shockwave didn't deign to answer. He let his gaze focus on the empty stands, as if imagining them full of eager, violence-hungry spectators. Headfins quivering, hand clenching into a fist at one side, he raised his gun-arm in a silent signal.

Footsteps clomped across the steel floor, and Orion lowered his gaze to see Caliber crossing the arena, Tarn at his side. For a moment he felt a peculiar relief at seeing his brother, unhurt and uncuffed…

Until he saw the cannon fixed to Caliber's right arm. A cannon eerily similar to the one Megatron wielded in almost every image he'd seen of the Decepticon warlord.

"Get him into position," Shockwave called out. "Then let the Decepticons assemble."

Tarn nodded, and he rested a hand on Caliber's shoulder and murmured into his audial. Orion couldn't make out individual words, but something about that voice tugged at his spark. It was far more than the tone and timbre, the resonance of the sound waves emerging from his vocalizer - there was something _compelling_ about the mech's voice, that willed him to obey even from this distance.

Caliber's optics blazed molten-gold in horror… but he stepped forward, raising his weapon-arm to point at Orion's chest.

 _Oh slag… he's controlling him!_ It was worse than every horror story he'd ever heard about the Decepticon Justice Division. Tarn didn't just kill with his voice - he could manipulate mechs into doing his bidding. It didn't matter that Caliber had no desire to kill Optimus Prime or Orion - Tarn had the power to MAKE him do so.

"Cal!" he called out. "Cal, snap out of it! It's me! It's your brother!"

Caliber's steady pace didn't falter, but his faceplates were a study in desperation. He clearly heard Orion, clearly understood what he was doing and wanted to stop it, but he had no power to do so.

"Decepticons," Shockwave announced, raising both hands aloft. "Our moment of rebirth is upon us!"

A cheer rose to meet his words - weak in volume, as only a few dozen mechs were scattered amidst the tiered seats, but strong in enthusiasm and a deep, burning rage. Orion shuddered. He'd thought most, if not all, Decepticons had renounced the cause after Megatron had lost the war. Evidently there were still fanatics who thought they could conquer Cybertron again after all this time.

"Lord Megatron may be lost to us," Shockwave went on, "but in his wisdom he left us hope for a better future. He left us an heir to the Decepticon throne, one who will finish what he began and restore us to our rightful place in the galaxy. Behold - Caliber of Polyhex, son of Megatron, your new ruler and Emperor!"

Another cheer met that statement. Caliber jerked at the roar of the crowd like an animal about to bolt, but Tarn clutched his shoulder and murmured into his audial, and he instead raised his arms to receive the adulation.

 _That's not Caliber,_ Orion told himself. _That's not him, he's being controlled, Caliber's not liking this, he's just as scared as you are..._ The mantra only made him feel slightly better - his life was still on the line, regardless of who was pulling the trigger.

"And as the first step towards our new Emperor claiming his position," Shockwave went on, "I present to you - the death of Orion of Iacon, son of Optimus Prime!"

Orion's tanks lurched as a third cheer rippled through the air, and only sheer force of will kept him from purging right there. He yanked at his chains, but all he succeeded in doing was snapping a cable in his wrist. Hissing in pain, he fixed his gaze on Caliber as the violet mech aimed the cannon directly at his chest.

"Orion… I'm sorry," Caliber whispered, his voice straining as he fought against Tarn's power of compulsion. "I… I can't stop…"

"You gotta fight it, Cal," Orion insisted. "You're strong, you can do this!"

Caliber's hands clenched into fists, his jaw clenched… optic cleanser streamed down his cheeks as he threw every fiber of his being into resisting Tarn's voice… the barrel of the cannon hummed with power, and Orion swore he could see the energy kindling within its depths, preparing to lance through him…

"Shockwave! This ends now!"

Every optic in the Pit swung towards the arena entrance - and the scarlet-and-blue figure striding through the gates. The oilthirsty roar of the crowd fractured into dozens of confused, frightened shouts as Optimus Prime swiveled his head about to glower at the gathered Decepticons. Tarn's words terminated in a startled gurgle, and Caliber took advantage of the moment's respite to lower the cannon. Even Shockwave took a step backwards, headfins twitching madly.

Orion, for his part, had never been so glad to see his father. But his relief didn't last long.

"I'm here as you requested, Shockwave," Prime told the violet mech. "Now release my sons."

Shockwave's headfins pinned back as he regained his composure. "Caliber is MY son, not yours… and that was never our agreement. Had you not come, Orion would have perished. But you're here now… and now both you and your son will meet your end at the hand of Megatron's heir!"

* * *

It had been a scene straight out of many Autobots' worst nightmares - Caliber aiming a weapon at Orion's chest, ready to snuff the spark of his foster brother. And though Optimus Prime had long regarded Caliber as his own son, as dear to him as the child of his own spark, he wouldn't lie and say that he had never feared that the son of Megatron might someday turn against the family that raised him. He had long ago dismissed that fear as unfounded… but entering the Pit to see his sons turned against one another had awakened it all over again.

Then his attention had fixed on Tarn, and the fear had burst into a blazing rage. No… Caliber would never willingly hurt his brother. But Shockwave had the means to force him to do so.

"One more step, and Orion dies," Tarn threatened.

"Get away from my _sons,_ " Prime snarled, his fingers tightening on his gun.

"Caliber is not your son!" Shockwave retorted - and though his voice was as steady as ever, Prime knew by the twitching of his headfins that hearing Prime refer to Caliber as his son was driving him into a deeper rage. "You were a fool, Optimus Prime, to think that you could deny him his destiny by raising him as an Autobot! He was created for this purpose! To ascend to the throne and continue in his father's cause!"

"He deserves to choose for himself!" Prime roared. "To decide his own destiny! What kind of a parent are you to deprive him of that right? Even Megatron himself wants Caliber to choose his own future!"

Shockwave's optic blazed in fury. "You dare presume to speak for Megatron, Optimus?"

"I can speak for myself just fine, Shockwave."

Gasps and cries of shock filled the stands as another mech strode into the arena - a silver-and-black mech whose scarlet gaze swept the gathered mechs before coming to rest on Caliber and Orion. Tarn stared, not even bothering to disguise his complete and utter awe, while Orion just gaped in shock.

"Dad?" Caliber murmured, his own optics bright with wonder.

Megatron met his son's gaze and gave a reassuring nod before returning his attention to Shockwave. He walked uncuffed and unfettered, not even a transformation lock keeping him bound to his root mode, and no guards flanked him as he stood within the Pit where he had kindled the first sparks of war so long ago. Elita, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and a selection of guards were hidden about the arena, keeping stun weapons trained on him should he do anything stupid, but Prime knew that, even unarmed, Megatron could easily fight his way past them and make an escape if he chose to.

They were placing a great deal of trust in their former enemy… and Megatron knew that all too well. Prime counted on the hope that Megatron's love for his son was greater than his urge for freedom. Perhaps it was a foolish hope… but it was all they had.

"Lord Megatron." Shockwave's voice was entirely without inflection. "Your appearance is unexpected."

Megatron managed a smirk. "I guessed that when you sought to push Caliber to take my place, Shockwave. Noble of you, if rather stupid. Let him go - let BOTH of them go - this instant!"

"My Lord," Tarn protested, sinking to his knees before the silver warlord, "this mech is the son of Optimus Prime! We have the opportunity to rid ourselves of your greatest foe and his offspring once and for all!"

Megatron barely spared the Decepticon Justice Division's infamous leader a glance. "The war is over! All of this…" He gestured about him, at the paltry resistance in the stands and the attempted execution in the arena proper. "...is an exercise in futility, prolonging a struggle we have already lost. There has been enough destruction - and I declare the destruction over! Release my son and the spawn of Optimus Prime, Shockwave, and let this war end once and for all!"

Shockwave stared at Megatron for a long, tense moment. "We agreed to spark and forge an heir to your throne, Lord Megatron. This was the purpose for which Caliber was created. Will you truly deny him his destiny?"

Megatron's optics rested on Caliber… and Prime's spark swelled at the pride and love that burned in his old foe's gaze. "Caliber's destiny is to live, Shockwave. To live and to choose his own path in the universe. This is the future he deserves - a future where he and others of his generation can decide their own destinies, without an archaic caste system or an oppressive Council deciding it for them. And if he chooses to reject the throne and pursue a different path… then he has already realized the grandest destiny of all."

Prime gave a slow nod, his spark burning with triumph at Megatron's words. Small wonder he had managed to rally an army all those eons ago - he spoke with the charisma of a Prime, and had the conviction to back up those words. Perhaps, with the power of his voice, they could end this without oilshed.

"You have given up on your own cause, Megatron," Shockwave replied, his tone cold with rage. "I'm disappointed. Perhaps Caliber will succeed where you failed." He raised his voice. "Proceed with the execution! Eliminate Optimus Prime, Megatron, and Orion!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl at that announcement - and though Prime would later learn it was just a trick of his CPU, at the time he assumed Elita heard what was going on and activated her outlier ability to buy them precious seconds. Tarn rose to his feet, and though his mask hid his jaw and lip plates Prime could see the cables in his neck work as he spoke a few well-chosen words to Caliber. Caliber's expression was a mask of fear as his arm raised, the cannon humming as it powered up…

Prime lunged, but Megatron was faster - his hand found Tarn's throat, and the violet tankformer's optics flashed with shock and agony as fingers dug into the wiring and tore his vocalizer free. Tarns scream of anger and pain cut off in a burst of static, and he gripped his throat with one hand while leveling the other arm - the one bearing his fusion cannon - at his former leader. Megatron barely leaped away in time to avoid the blast.

As for Prime… his charge took him directly into Caliber, and the young mech grunted with the impact as Prime knocked him sprawling. The blast from his cannon missed Orion's chest by a hand's breadth and struck the arena wall.

"I'm sorry!" Caliber blurted even as he scrambled to his feet, cannon smoking. "I couldn't stop it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I'm okay, Cal!" Orion called out. "It's okay, you missed!"

"I… I did?" Caliber stared dumbly at the cannon, then grabbed it and wrenched it off, flinging it across the arena.

"Caliber, go find Elita and stay with her!" Prime ordered. "Orion, hold still!" And he raised his gun, pointing it at his son.

"Wait, Dad, what-" Orion sputtered.

Prime fired, and the chains binding the young mech to the pole fell away. Orion hit the arena floor, then climbed to his feet and ran to Prime's side.

"What took you so long, Dad?"

"You're welcome," Prime replied. "Are you all right?"

"Pretty good, all things considered," Orion replied. "Um… I found Caliber."

Prime wasn't sure whether to reply with a witty retort, give his son a _look,_ or just clap a palm over his face. And he didn't exactly have time for any of those reactions anyhow. The stands had erupted into chaos - some Decepticons were leaping into the Pit to lend Tarn a hand, while others tangled with Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and the Autobot reinforcements Elita had brought with her. Tarn and Megatron were visible as a hopeless tangle of silver and black and violet, gouging at each other's joints and optics and raining powerful blows onto each other's armor.

Shockwave had vanished… and Prime hoped the Council's reinforcements showed up soon. The last thing he wanted was for that mech to go back into hiding and start this whole mess over again.

"Go find your mother," Prime ordered Orion.

"Dad, I can help!" Orion protested. "Give me a weapon! I can fight!"

"No, son," Prime retorted. "Stay with Elita. Help her protect Caliber."

Orion opened his mouth, prepared to argue, but shut it and nodded. "Right. Protect Caliber. I can do that." And he bolted.

Satisfied that his sons were out of immediate danger, Prime turned his attention to the most pressing fight in the arena - Tarn and Megatron. Under normal circumstances they might have been evenly matched… but Megatron was unarmed, while Tarn not only still had his fusion cannon but burned with the zealous rage of a mech betrayed by his own idol. And though the deadly power of his voice had been snuffed, he still had his strength and his weapon.

Megatron bucked beneath the tankformer, hands clawing at Tarn's iron grip on his throat. Tarn held him fast to the arena floor and pressed the barrel of his cannon against the silver mech's head. Energon dripped from his throat, and his optics blazed with angry triumph as he stole a moment to savor his victory.

That moment cost him dearly - Prime's foot caught the barrel of the cannon, knocking it to one side. The blast of pinkish-violet energy seared a molten channel across the arena floor, leaving Megatron unmarked save a scuff mark on the front of his helm. Tarn's head whirled to glare at whomever had taken away his rightful kill…

Only to catch the amber plasma of Prime's energy axe full in the faceplate.

Megatron grunted as Tarn collapsed atop him. Prime wrenched his weapon free of the mech's head and pushed him off, then extended a hand to help his old foe up.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Megatron growled, grabbing Prime's wrist and hauling himself to his feet. "You're going to rub this in for as long as I continue to function, aren't you?"

"Why would I do that?" Prime let a little amusement leak into his voice. "Despite everything, Megatron, I do not hate you. And you're Caliber's father. He would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you."

Megatron narrowed his optics, and Prime wished he could snatch the words back. Despite what had happened today, Megatron was far from a free mech - and his war trial was due to commence very soon. That was something even the Prime, for all his power, couldn't prevent.

A scream of pain brought them both back to reality, and Prime felt his spark jolt in his chest as Orion went down, a smoking hole blooming in the small of his back.

* * *

"Elita!"

Elita and Ratchet had been bent over a wounded mech, her holding a panel open so Ratchet could access a ruptured line, when she heard Caliber's shout. Her spark burned with relief, and she raised a hand and waved him over. The violet mech hurried into the alcove where she and the medic were tending to the wounded bot, scooting in by her side.

"Are you hurt?" Elita asked him.

Caliber shook his head. "N-n-no… they didn't… didn't…" He couldn't get the words out and just shook his head again.

"Stay close, kid," Ratchet ordered. "Once I'm sure Hot Shot here won't leak to death, I'll look you over."

"I'm not… not hurt…" Caliber insisted, though his entire frame shook.

"You're in shock, Caliber," Elita told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Sit down and vent. It's okay… we've got you. You're going home."

Caliber nodded and slumped to his knees close by, focusing on venting deeply. His chassis bore some dents and scuffs but no other damages, and his optics blazed with fright. She couldn't blame him - this poor mech had suffered something no mech should have to go through, let alone one his age. And that wasn't even taking into consideration whatever had happened to him before they'd gotten here.

 _His own carrier did this to him… I knew Shockwave was a loveless parent, but not to this extent. My poor Caliber…_

"Mom!"

Elita looked up to see Orion bolting for their group, and felt another wave of relief swamp her, albeit one tinged with irritation. Once they got home and she got done hugging this young idiot, he was going to be grounded until the heat death of the universe…

A shot rang out, and Orion cried out as he hit the ground, smoke pluming from his back.

"No!" Elita shot to her feet, horror searing through her. Not now… not when they were so close to having their children back…

Shockwave strode forward, keeping his gun-arm trained on the fallen flier. "If the heir of Megatron cannot do what must be done, then I shall."

Caliber jerked at Elita's side… and bolted forward before she could stop him. He flung himself over his brother's prone form just as Shockwave fired again, and screamed in pain as the shot tore into his side.

"You truly are a failure, Caliber," Shockwave noted, ice clinging to every word. "As your carrier, I am extremely disappointed in you."

Caliber stared up at him, shaking in pain and fear but determined to say his piece. "It doesn't… have to be like this. We can… we can live in peace… the cause isn't worth this… please..."

Shockwave twitched his headfins. "The cause is worth every life that must be sacrificed to support it. Even yours, Caliber of-"

He never finished his sentence. His head jerked back as a blast pierced his optic, scorching through his cranial shell and slagging his CPU. He wavered on his feet, jerking as the last few bytes of data passed through his systems, then toppled to the arena floor.

Elita tossed her gun aside and rushed to her sons' sides, carefully pushing Caliber off of Orion so she could better inspect both their damages. Ratchet hurried to help, bending down to assess their wounds and seal off the worst of the leaking.

"Orion… Orion, stay with me," she urged.

"Not goin' anywhere, Mom," he grunted. "Can't feel my legs anyhow."

"Must have hit his spinal array," Ratchet noted grimly. "Looks like the blast missed his fuel tanks, at least, though I don't want him moved more than necessary."

Elita nodded and took Caliber's hand, squeezing it tightly. "What about…?"

Ratchet wiped a smear of oil away from Caliber's wound to assess it. "Deep, but not deep enough to hit anything vital. Right now we just need to keep him from going into shock. Keep him awake and try to calm him down while I stabilize Orion."

She nodded again, keeping ahold of Caliber's hand while Ratchet continued to work on Orion. Her tanks churned with worry over Orion… but she couldn't deny that she was proud of Caliber for trying to protect his brother. And even if his words hadn't swayed his carrier, they had distracted him long enough for Elita to line up the fatal shot.

"Caliber," she murmured. "I'm here… everything's going to be okay."

"Mmhhhhh…" Caliber's optics flickered. "Sh-shockwave…"

"He's dead," she assured him. "Caliber… I'm so sorry. He would have killed you…" Would he ever forgive her for shooting down his carrier? Had that one shot shattered their relationship?

Caliber stared blearily up at her, then managed a smile. "Th-thank you… Mom… for saving us."

Her spark flared with emotion, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "That's what mothers do, Caliber. They protect their sparklings."

Footsteps pounded closer, and she looked up to see Prime hit his knees next to Orion, barking frantic questions that Ratchet answered with curses and growls. Megatron crouched down at Caliber's side, frowning, and Elita realized he must have overheard their exchange. But he showed no signs of being displeased with it and instead focused on the tear in Caliber's side.

"He'll live?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's not too deep. He should be fine once it's repaired."

"Orion?"

"He's going to need extensive repairs… but he'll be able to run circles around us again soon enough. Megatron… thank you."

He raised an optic ridge at her. "I should thank you, Elita-1. My son owes you his life. I am forever in your debt for this." He spared a contemptuous glance towards Shockwave's chassis. "I've made far too many mistakes in my lifetime… and selecting Shockwave to carry my heir was only one of them."

Elita wondered who his second choice had been… but decided it didn't matter. No matter who sparked him, Caliber was still their son - Megatron's by spark, hers and Optimus Prime's by choice. They were linked through this young mech, and somehow she couldn't bring herself to regret that.


	20. Road to Recovery

Orion later learned that the only reason he wasn't grounded for the rest of his functioning days was because of his injuries. Not just the sympathy factor - though Prime admitted that punishing Orion after he'd already been shot in the back by a Decepticon sympathizer felt too much like kicking him while he was down - but because Prime and Elita figured that being berth-ridden for a couple decacycles while he underwent repairs was pretty much the equivalent of a thorough grounding.

And honestly, Orion couldn't help but agree. Oh, it had been almost enjoyable for the first few days - his parents, brother, and friends had all fussed over him, and being under doctor's orders to stay prone meant he was excused from his usual chores. But laying in bed bingeing on entertainment feeds and playing video games had long since worn thin, and his wings were twitching with impatience to be up and about.

At least he had Caliber and his friends to alleviate his boredom somewhat. He was sure he would have driven himself (and his parents) insane had he had to go through this alone.

"And how's our favorite patient today?" Zinc asked as Caliber led her into the bedroom.

"Going stir-crazy is how," Orion replied, twitching his wings. "I still don't understand why they can't just weld everything together and be done with it."

"Because you can't just _weld_ shredded wiring back together, you doofus," Caliber retorted, lightly nudging his shoulder. "It has to be carefully spliced back together, or pulled out and completely rewired if the damage is bad enough. And this is your spinal array, not just a regular wire - it's practically a power cable. They have to be even more careful with it."

Zinc smirked. "So there, flyboy. You heard it right from the medical student."

"I haven't even put my application in yet," Caliber insisted. "Though that's all just basic stuff that Orion _should_ have picked up from our science classes."

"I'm not the one who wants to be a doctor," Orion replied. "I haven't missed anything, have I? Any fun shenanigans?"

"Not really," Zinc replied with a shrug. "We've all been too worried about you and Cal to do our usual outings to Swerve's or the holotheater, to be honest. Alpine got his upgrade, but that's about it."

"Oh, nice! What's he turn into?"

"Some big sports utility vehicle. I think Mirage was a bit disappointed - he wanted him to pick something classy and elegant - but he's supportive at least. Hound wants to take him mudding as soon as he's settled into his adult frame."

"Eww… I honestly worry about Alpine's dad. Loving dirt and mud that much isn't healthy."

"Hey, don't knock driving in the dirt," Zinc laughed. "It's not like getting your fenders muddy is gonna kill you."

"I don't have fenders," Orion shot back. "How's everyone else? Paddles, Soar, Rhap, Glory?"

"They're fine," Zinc said quickly - quickly enough to make Orion raise an optic ridge and turn to Caliber.

"There's been some drama," Caliber admitted.

"Cal, you promised not to tell him!" Zinc huffed.

"He's my brother, I don't like hiding things from him," Caliber protested.

"Well, it's not like it's any of his business anyhow!"

"What's not my business?" Orion demanded, curiosity immediately piqued. "C'mon, don't leave me in the dark. I deserve to know all the juicy gossip."

Zinc sighed. "Fine, since Caliber went and blew it." She shot the heli-former a glower, but Caliber just shrugged in response, and she sighed and went on. "Glory's in deep with her parents. Grounded for the next millennium, if not longer."

Orion's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me."

"Nope," Zinc replied. "Her uncles caught her sneaking out of her apartment to go see a boyfriend. They took her home and her parents told her she was forbidden to see him again. It caused a huge blow-up, from what I hear. A LOT of screaming."

"Ouch," Orion winced. "Though I didn't think her parents were the types to raise a fuss about her having a lover. Who's the lucky mech?"

At that, Caliber actually cracked a smile. "You ready for this? Blitzwing."

Orion rebooted his optics, stunned. "Blitzwing? As in the infamous first triple-changer? The mech with one of the highest kill counts in the entire Decepticon army? THAT Blitzwing?"

"Like there's another Blitzwing or two running around," Zinc muttered. "Yes, that Blitzwing. Apparently Glory started writing him as some kind of inmate-rehabilitation program, and it grew into something a LOT closer than just being a penpal. She's been sneaking out to visit him in prison - and even better or worse depending on how you look at it, her cousins have been helping her. Zephyr and Mistral are in trouble too, though not as much as Glory."

"...wow," Orion murmured. "And she didn't even tell any of us about this?"

Zinc shuffled her feet, looking away, and Orion guffawed. "You knew! You sneaky groundpounder, you knew Glory was sneaking off to snuggle her mech-toy in prison! How long have you been hiding THIS from all of us, huh?"

"Shut up," she growled. "Glory didn't want it blabbed to everyone. She knew it was going to cause problems."

"She's sneaking off to cuddle with a mech who's not only in prison but as old as her parents," Caliber countered. "Of course it's going to cause problems. She's lucky she's only grounded, not stripped of her wings."

"Ugh… of COURSE you'd take her parents' side," Zinc muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "She loves him! And he loves her back, from everything I've seen and heard! It's not like he's some kind of creep!"

"Um, what part of 'as old as her parents' doesn't make it creepy?" Caliber insisted.

Orion laughed heartily, slapping the berth with one hand. "Oh my Primus, I really DID miss some juicy drama. Tell Glory to tell Blitzwing hi for me, all right?"

"You fraggers are impossible," Zinc grumbled. "Don't worry, Glory'll pass that along. Being grounded isn't going to stop her from sneaking out if she puts her CPU to it."

"And if she has a little help from a certain groundpounder," Orion replied, shuttering one optic in a wink.

"I admit to nothing," Zinc retorted, and lightly socked his shoulder. "You take care of yourself, all right? Don't go trying to walk around and tear your repairs open again."

"I only did that once," Orion retorted.

"And had both Mom and Ratchet threaten to weld you to the berth if it happened again," Caliber noted. "Want me to walk you out, Zinc?"

"I'm good. Take care of him, Caliber. Don't be afraid to sit on him if you have to." And she walked out.

Orion shook his head. "I'm gone for a little while and things get exciting without me. Glory and Blitzwing, holy frag… I never saw THAT coming."

"I don't think any of us did," Caliber admitted. "Glory always liked to stir things up, but this is pretty extreme even for her."

"Eh… you can't predict love, I guess. Or the lengths mechs'll go to for it." He gave Caliber a more serious look. "How are you holding up?"

"All right, I guess." Caliber sat down by Orion's berth, looking down at his hands. "Side's stopped hurting. Ratchet did a good job."

Orion frowned, then reached over and took one of his hands. "I wasn't talking about where you got shot. How are you holding up with… everything else?"

Caliber didn't look up, but his optics darkened at the question. "I don't know how to answer that. There's just… so much to process."

Orion shrugged. "You don't have to talk about it… but if you want to, I'm not going anywhere."

Caliber snorted. "I guess that's true. Mom… Elita…"

"You can call her Mom. I'm not gonna get jealous or anything. Besides, I think it's safe to say that she's more of a parent to you than the ugly purple guy was."

Caliber made a noise deep in his chest that sounded like the beginning of a laugh. "Mom took me to see a therapist a few days ago. It's going to be a regular thing for awhile. Hopefully it'll help me work through all this stuff."

"Is it helping?"

"I've only been there once… but I think it'll help. There's a lot to unpack, he said - not just with being kidnapped by my own creator, but my whole life." He ex-vented a deep sigh. "Maybe I should have been seeing one all along. Growing up with my father in prison isn't normal, after all."

"I don't think anyone's life is normal… though I admit, yours is less normal than mine."

"I suppose that's true." He leaned back in his chair, shuttering his optics. "I… I knew, when I was young, that my carrier was pretty cold. He never hurt me physically, but he wasn't affectionate. But I wanted to hope he still cared about me in some way, even if he kept it hidden. Knowing he just saw me as a tool… as something to further the Decepticon cause, whatever that cause is… it hurts. And I feel so confused about all this - I didn't love him, and I hate what he did to you and to me… but it still hurts, knowing he's dead for sure. Knowing I never really got to know him as a parent, and not just someone who contributed to my programming and carried my spark."

Orion had no idea what to say in response, and so just squeezed his hand. Caliber squeezed back, seeming to take comfort from the gesture, and went on.

"And I'm worried, to be honest. I know the Autobots expected me to follow in my father's footsteps… but I had no idea the Decepticons expected it too. Not just expected it, but wanted it. And having them cheer me on and hail me as some kind of second coming of Megatron… it scared me, Orion. It scared me right down to my struts."

"Hey… I'm not your therapist, bro, but try not to worry so much. Shockwave's weirdo lackeys may have wanted you to be Megatron Jr., but most of the Decepticons just want to live in peace and be left alone. You're just Caliber to them. Okay?"

Caliber sighed again. "I hope you're right. I just hope the Council doesn't decide to get involved again. If they were worried about me before all this went down, I can't imagine THIS makes them happy. They're probably about to storm in and demand I put on the Autobot sigil right in front of them."

"They pull THAT stunt and I'll take that sigil and make them eat it," Orion retorted. "Or just pummel the slag out of them."

"You can't move your legs," Caliber retorted. "What are you gonna do, drag yourself across the room and bite their knees?"

Orion laughed. "There's my brother." He patted his arm. "You take care of yourself, okay? Not gonna be able to watch your back for a bit."

"I know," Caliber replied. "Do you want to play a game or something? Paddles dropped off the new _Smash Brothers."_

"Only if you feel like getting your aft stomped."

Caliber chuckled and went to set up the game. Orion settled back, picking up a controller. Hopefully a few rounds of a fighting game would ease some of his restlessness… and help Caliber take his CPU off everything weighing down so heavily on him. Caliber was bending over backwards trying to look after him - he wanted to return the favor, even in a small way like this.

* * *

"Caliber, you got a package."

Caliber glanced up from his book, feeling his spark leap in his chest. "Oh… it's here already?"

"I take it you were expecting it," Prime noted, handing the heavy envelope to him. "Anything special? Another book?"

"No… didn't you look at the return address?"

"It was addressed to you, Caliber. I respect your privacy by not prying into these things."

Caliber frowned. "What if I was getting books or pamphlets from some pro-Functionalist group or something? Wouldn't you want to screen the mail to keep me or Orion from getting into trouble?"

"I admit we did some screening when you received packages as children… but you and Orion are adults now. You can make your own decisions. And Caliber… look at what you're reading and tell me you would be ordering pro-Functionalist material."

He glanced down at the book in his hands - _Towards Peace._ He'd lost it when Tarn had snatched it in the alley, but it had turned up mysteriously on their doorstep a few days after his and Orion's rescue. He suspected Ravage had a hand in its return, and while the book might be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, he'd been incredibly glad to see it again. It was a reminder, however small, that life went on as normal despite the terrible events of that day.

"That's true," Caliber admitted. "I… I didn't realize Cybertron was that bad before the war. That mechs were kept trapped according to their alt mode like that. That they never had the opportunity to change if they wanted to be something else, or even learn new skills. It was awful… why would someone fight to KEEP that in place?"

Prime sighed and sat down across from Caliber, hands folded atop the table. "You're asking what I found so objectionable about your father's beliefs that I committed myself to a war against him."

Caliber cringed. "I didn't mean to make it sound like that…"

"It's okay," Prime assured him. "And believe it or not, despite the fact that your father and I led opposing armies for so long, I have never truly hated him. We even had some of the same goals - only very different means of accomplishing those goals. I believed our culture and government could be reformed from within, whereas he believed the only way to fix a broken system was to destroy it and rebuild from the ground up."

"But it didn't work out that way. I mean… we have a better Cybertron now. But it took so much destruction to get here… and my father never got to see it for himself. He got what he wanted, in a way, but at such a terrible cost."

Prime gazed at Caliber, his optics dimmed with sadness. "I wish it could have been otherwise. Had your father come to me proposing we work together to correct our society's flaws, I would have accepted in a spark pulse. But we've all made our choices… and we have to accept the consequences." He reached forward and rested his hand on Caliber's. "Just know that if anyone ever tries to make you pay for your father's crimes - crimes you had absolutely no hand in - I will step in. You are your own mechanism, and no one has the right to decide that for you. Not me, not your father, not the Council."

Caliber nodded. "Thank you… I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome." Prime withdrew his hand. "Your package…"

"It's from the Iacon Academy," Caliber replied. "I… I went ahead and sent in my application for their medical school. I hope that was okay."

"Why would it not be okay?"

"Well… with Orion still in recovery, I wondered if it might not be the right time…"

Prime chuckled. "Orion's been back on his feet for a decacycle, Caliber. He's just fine. And don't feel you have to put your life on hold for our sake. No one is going to be upset with you for submitting your application."

Caliber relaxed slightly, then looked down at the envelope. "I'm… almost afraid to open it. What if they rejected me?"

"Then at least you will know. And you'll have an opportunity to apply again. Would you prefer to open it in private?"

Caliber shook his head. "Actually… I'd like to open it with the family around. Is Mom here? And Orion?"

Prime touched the side of his helm, then nodded. "They'll be here shortly."

"Shortly" was an understatement - Prime had barely finished his sentence before Orion came charging into the room, optics blazing with excitement.

"It came!" he whooped, slapping Caliber on the back. "It came! That was super fast, what'd it say? Don't leave us in suspense, bro!"

"Someone's looking spry for recovering from spinal surgery," Caliber noted.

"Hey, Ratchet's the best at what he does," Orion quipped.

"Funny, that's not what you told him during your checkup," Prime observed, optics twinkling with humor. "I seem to recall a few remarks about how he was trying to kill you when he delivered injections."

"Hey, nobody likes shots, okay?" Orion replied. "You gonna open that or what, bro?"

"I'm just waiting for Mom," Caliber insisted.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Elita called out, hurrying to the table. "I hope it coming back so fast is good news…"

Caliber stared down at the envelope, tanks churning. Did the quick response mean that they'd accepted him immediately instead of considering the decision? Or did it mean they'd rejected him the moment they saw his name on the application? Perhaps the Council had heard of his decision not to take a sigil and ordered the Academy to blacklist him…

"Go on," Elita urged. "Let's see what it says."

Bracing himself, Caliber broke the seal on the plastic envelope and slid the datapad out. He activated it and began to read aloud, trying to suppress a tremor in his voice:

" _Caliber of Polyhex,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that your application to the Iacon Academy Medical Program has been accepted…"_

Any effort to read on after that point would have been pointless - Orion erupted in a roar of triumph, pumping his fists and performing a ridiculous victory dance as if he'd been the one to receive the acceptance letter. Prime and Elita let out shouts of delight as well, and Elita wrapped her arms around him in a firm hug.

"Congratulations!" Prime told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This is wonderful!"

"Th-thanks," Caliber replied, feeling the tension in his internals finally release as he returned Elita's hug. "I… I was worried…"

"What, they'd reject you because of your dad?" asked Orion. "If they had I'd have gone down there and-"

"You can't solve all of Caliber's problems by threatening to kick everyone's aft," Elita told him.

"What about a stern talking-to?" asked Orion.

"Orion," Prime warned.

"Okay, okay… but this is awesome! I'm so freaking happy for you, bro!"

"We'll have to celebrate this," Prime added. "Drinks at Maccadam's Oilhouse tonight?"

"That sounds great," Caliber replied with a smile. He held the acceptance letter close to his chest, knowing he'd be storing it with the rest of his keepsakes. He was safe… he had his family by his side… and he was taking another step towards realizing his dreams, without the Council hampering his path. For once in his life, everything seemed to be going perfectly.

* * *

Prime had promised Thundercracker that he wouldn't interfere with his family again after his first disastrous visit… but the message from Windblade just two days after Caliber's acceptance letter made him change his mind.

 _Starscream's shown up at our building. Having to hold Skywarp and Glory back from tearing his wings off. We need help NOW._

Prime was heading out the door within seconds of processing said message, pausing only to alert Elita to his whereabouts before tearing down the road. Blast it all, what was _Starscream_ doing out of prison? He couldn't have escaped - surely he would have been alerted if there had been a jailbreak among the Decepticon prisoners. Unless there was something more sinister going on…

He could hear the shouting from almost a block away - not screams of terror, but angry bellowing and outraged insults. Shifting to root mode, he made for the lift and performed a quick weapon check on the way up. He sincerely hoped he would not have to pull his weapon tonight, but Starscream was an unpredictable force, and who knew what his intentions were in harassing his old trine members.

 _It'll be a last resort,_ he promised himself. _For now, just go in and focus on de-escalating the situation. Thundercracker and Skywarp ARE warriors - they should know how to handle themselves._

He stepped out of the lift and was greeted by a scene of chaos. Starscream faced his former trine-mates with his usual imperious air, arms folded across his chest and a sneer on his faceplates. Skywarp was practically frothing at the mouth as he thrashed against Thundercracker and Windblade's arms, struggling to break free and attack the red-and-white Seeker. Glory was screaming invectives harsh enough to make Prime balk, and only Piston's grip on her arm kept her from joining the fray. Zephyr and Mistral cowered back in the doorway of their apartment, sobbing, and from their confused but frightened expressions Prime guessed that they had no idea what was going on but were terrified to see their parents so angry.

"THIS is the thanks I get for wanting to check on your welfare!" Starscream snapped. "You ungrateful wretches!"

"Frag off, you bastard!" Skywarp roared. "You sold us out to save your own skidplate! Don't pretend you care!"

"Admit it, you'd have done the same in my position!" Starscream retorted. "Especially seeing as you had absolutely no sense and got Thundercracker knocked up in the middle of a war!"

"Shut up!" Skywarp's wings quivered in fury. "Get the frag out of here before I tear your head off!"

"Skywarp, stop this!" Windblade ordered. "You're scaring the girls!"

"You have no business being here!" Thundercracker snapped, tightening his grip on Skywarp's arm. "Leave now!"

"The last I checked, the hallway wasn't your property," Starscream retorted. "I can be here as long as I please-"

A blue hand clamped down on the Seeker's shoulder, and he whirled, mouth open to tell off whoever had dared lay a hand on him. But the words died in his vocalizer as he made optic contact with Optimus Prime.

"That's enough," Prime told him. "Leave them alone. They've been through enough already."

"What's he doing here?" Skywarp demanded, though he sounded more baffled than upset.

"I called him," Windblade replied. "I couldn't think of anyone else to contact who wouldn't escalate the situation."

Skywarp looked like he wanted to argue, but to his credit he kept his mouth shut.

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, why don't you go inside and comfort your sparklings?" Prime urged them. "They're scared and need reassurance from their parents. I'll handle Starscream."

Thundercracker gave him a look of extreme gratitude and steered Skywarp into their apartment. The black Seeker's expression immediately softened, and he bent down to scoop Zephyr up and console her. Thundercracker took up Mistral, a pretty young femme with a pearlescent white paint job, and they ducked inside and shut the door behind them.

"So you just HAD to interfere, didn't you?" Starscream growled, wrenching free of Prime's grip. "You stupid Autobots never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?"

"Sounds like someone else we know, you motherboard-fragging-" began Glory.

"Glory, that's enough," Piston scolded.

"Why are you even here?" Prime demanded. "I wasn't aware they'd released you. And you have no further business with Thundercracker and Skywarp."

"A mech can't catch up with his old teammates?" Starscream asked, his voice sickeningly sweet even as his optics flashed in anger. "Shame they have to hold such grudges. A mech only does what he has to do in times of war, after all…"

"You're failing to answer the question," Prime told him, folding his arms before his chest. "Who released you?"

Starscream gave him an oily smile. "Why, the Autobot Council, of course. A number of Decepticons have been released early - including your precious lover, Glory. I'm sure your family will be delighted…"

Prime frowned, unable to suppress the troubled tremor in his spark. The Council would be far more likely to lengthen prison sentences for Decepticons captured during the final days of the war, not give them an early release. Unless something else was going on…

No. Surely not. But it was looking far more likely…

"What were the terms of your release?" he demanded, knowing already he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Simple enough," Starscream replied. "If we testified against Megatron in his upcoming trial, our own sentences would automatically be changed to time served. Naturally, many of us took them up on that offer…"

"You monster!" Glory screamed, and only Windblade's quick reflexes kept her from springing on Starscream and inflicting serious injury. "You absolute monster!"

Starscream rolled his optics. "How am I a monster for looking out after myself? And I'm a monster, then what does that make your precious Blitzwing? I'm sure he'd LOVE to see your reaction right now." His gaze moved to Prime, and his slimy smile returned. "I'll go… I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll be seeing you in court, Optimus Prime - I'm sure they're going to want you to testify against Caliber's father. Won't that be delightful to see?"

And the former Decepticon Air Commander strode off, leaving Prime to stare after him, his spark churning with anger and dread.


End file.
